


Bookends

by eilonwywrites



Category: The Witchlands Series - Susan Dennard
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Eventual Smut, Family, Fluff, Friendship, Humor, Multi, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2020-07-11 16:18:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 49,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19930933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eilonwywrites/pseuds/eilonwywrites
Summary: Iseult det Midenzi never expected to go to a top university, so when her mother falls ill and she is forced to drop out to make ends meet, life has never seemed so unfair.  But when she starts working at the local library and is unexpectedly assigned in the Children's Room, a certain monosyllabic man and his thrice-damned demon child start showing up and Iseult begins to wonder if the threads of fate have a plan for her after all.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Maybe I'm crazy for taking on a multi-chapter fic, but I've spent many a shift at my very own library daydreaming about this silly little idea for a story. I love the unlikely family unit that is Iseult, Aeduan, and Owl (and Blueberry!) and I really wanted to play around with their dynamic. I may have also wanted an excuse to get Iseult and Aeduan up close and personal with each other between bookshelves. ;)
> 
> While this will be heavily focused on Iseult and Aeduan (and Owl!), you can expect to see rest of the Witchlands crew in it as well.

_811.34 Courrier_

_811.34 Gaines_

_811.34 Vasiliev_

Iseult reached for another book from the cart. She ran a pale finger along its spine, noting the title vaguely, before settling on the call number at its base.

_813.01 Balthazar_

Her gaze lifted to the long line of books shelved in front of her, scanning for one in particular, before bending low and craning her neck to read the next row underneath. A twinge of discomfort radiated through her neck protesting the awkward angle, but she stayed hunched over, reading the call numbers until she found what she was looking for.

_813 Allein_

_813.2 Husmond_

_Ah._ She slipped Balthazar’s book neatly between the two titles, then drew herself up with a tired slowness. Stifling a sigh, she rolled her shoulders and let her head loll back before rotating it from side to side. Standing upright was decidedly more comfortable than the 90 degree angle she’d bent in and out of all throughout the day, but no amount of stretching seemed to ease the ache in her neck and back. An unavoidable caveat of working at the Venaza City Library.

Five months ago when she’d taken the job, Iseult det Midenzi had not considered the physical toll books could have on a person. Sure, she had read _Eridysi’s Lament_ enough times to know books could break your heart worse than any one person could. But books existed to exercise the mind. The most Iseult had exerted herself for a book was forcing herself to stay awake long enough to read _just one more chapter_ a dozen or so times before resigning herself to being a filthy liar. And that was admittedly more a testament to her mental willpower than any physical endurance she may have possessed. Besides, the price she paid for a sleepless night was well worth the reward. It certainly didn’t leave her physically disabled.

Yet here she was, 22 and condemned to live in the body of a 90-year-old woman. All because she shelved books for a living.

Safi told her she’d have the ass of a model by the time she quit, what with all the squatting. Iseult had yet to notice any improvements. (Not that she was checking, of course.)

Maybe it really was time to go back to the gym, she thought as she massaged the painful knot at the base of her neck. Finally start going to yoga again like her best friend had been nagging her to do every Saturday morning since school term had started. A year ago it would have been Iseult dragging Safi out of bed at 7 A.M., succeeding only by using the one means of bribery she possessed: the promise of a double chocolate double whip hazelnut macchiato from the campus coffee cart, followed by a hash brown heist from the dining hall. Nothing quite curbed a sugar rush more than an adrenaline rush and some grease.

Iseult dropped her hand. The spot on her neck faded into a dull throb at the thought of her and Safi running from the dining hall, pockets stuffed with hash browns wrapped in napkins and a breakfast sandwich fisted in each hand, while cafeteria staff shouted after them as they escaped with their spoils.

 _No._ She hadn’t stepped foot on campus since she dropped out. She wasn’t about to now. And not just because she and Safi now had copies of their student I.D. photos posted on the community board in the dining hall asking students to keep an eye out for the notorious thieves.

 _Drop out._ There wasn’t an aspect of her life that didn’t seem to revolve around those two words. She could hear Safi scolding her.

 _“Don’t say that! ‘Drop out’,”_ she'd said one evening while they closed up her uncles’ coffee shop shortly after Iseult had made the decision. _“You didn’t drop out of anything. You made a graceful exit. To do something more noble than any of those old toads sitting cushy in the administration have likely ever done, might I add! They should consider themselves lucky that you’ll even be coming back!”_

Iseult fingered through the books on her cart. Well. That had been back in September. It was now January, the first week of second semester had just wrapped up and Safi had changed tactics. Instead, she ranted about how the collegiate system was the world’s biggest scam, squeezing their generation of every last drop of money and happiness they had, and that _she_ should drop out too just to have the satisfaction in giving Dean Henrick a big FUCK YOU. It was a touching offer, though, not exactly the most ambitious plot for revenge. Safi was running on a free ride. Henrick’s deep pockets wouldn’t be any lighter if she left. He’d still be sitting pretty on the proverbial throne.

“Iseult.”

Iseult looked up to see Evrane gliding down the aisle towards her, thoughts of school and Safi interrupted. As always she was impeccably dressed, from the silver dangling from her ears all the way down to the perfectly polished stilettos she wore. Her long white hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail, leaving her bronze face bare, radiant even under the library’s miserable lighting - a feat aided by sorcery, Iseult could only assume. It was a wonder what patrons must think of her roaming the halls, what with her pale moon skin and midnight hair. She looked more like the ghost that was rumored to haunt the library tower.

But Evrane wasn’t the library’s director for her otherworldly cheekbones or dazzling emerald eyes. She was also the sharpest person Iseult had ever met and someone she couldn’t believe she had the privilege of calling a mentor.

Iseult hastily tugged off her earbuds. “Hi Evrane.” Her voice cracked; sshe cringed inwardly. She hadn’t spoken a word to anyone during her 8 hour shift. Evrane didn’t seem to notice.

“How are you, dear?” Evrane asked. She nodded to Iseult’s cart of books. “Tackling the nonfiction, I see.”

“Good,” Iseult replied, this time willing her voice to sound normal. “I’m almost done with the nonfiction, and then I have some books I need to bring down to Children’s. I think someone may have mixed up the carts. My shift ends soon, but I could stick around to shelve them. There aren’t too many but...” She trailed off watching Evrane shake her head, as though amused.

“That won’t be necessary,” she said, then adding, “Pleased as I am with your progress, I was actually wondering how _you_ were doing… How was your trip home?”

Iseult stared blank-face at Evrane. She should have expected this. Evrane had taken to Iseult from the moment they’d met, always seeking her out between bookshelves, pulling her aside to talk about the latest book Iseult was reading or simply inviting her back to her office to join her for tea. Secretly, Iseult was pleased. To have a woman like Evrane be genuinely interested in what Iseult had to say… well. It was more than she could have dared to hope for.

Which was exactly why couldn’t help asking herself, _why?_

Iseult never did come up with an explanation for why Evrane hired her in the first place. She could only assume the woman had done it out of pity. Her resume had been woefully thin to the point of being downright pathetic with only her part-time barista gig at Mathew and Habim’s coffee shop to her name. She had no other achievements. No special skills. And of course, now, no academic prospects to boast. Iseult had nothing to offer.

And yet... here Evrane was asking the one question Iseult wished she wouldn’t.

Home was the same as always. Saldonica never changed. It was still the grimy, cut-throat city it had always been, with its streets teeming with crime and illegal trade. That was the accepted way of life there. But it didn’t phase Iseult. She never really considered it home anyway. She hadn’t grown up there. There was only one thing, one person, who made Saldonica home.

Her mother. The true subject of Evrane’s inquiry.

So how was she?

Sick. Very sick. And showing little improvement. Though, she’d probably be worse if not for Alma caring for her day and night. If not for the money Iseult sent home each week to ensure she was getting the medication she needed. If not for her mother’s damned stubbornness to shirk life’s more unsavory aspects and persist in the face of uncertain fate. That in itself was likely aiding Gretchya more than Iseult and Alma’s contributions combined.

“Fine,” Iseult said, expression unchanging. It was automatic. Succinct. Gretchya would have approved.

Evrane merely hummed, bowing her head slowly. As though Iseult’s meager reply required deep and philosophical deliberation. “You know,” she continued after a moment, “I know this,” her eyes panned the bookshelves on either side of them, “wasn’t exactly where you expected to be by now. I am sorry your plans to return to school didn’t work out as you had hoped, Iseult… but I’d be lying if I didn’t tell you that I’m happy to have you with us for a little longer.” Evrane raised a hand to Iseult’s arm and gave it a reassuring squeeze, a gesture that should have been comforting, yet only turned Iseult to stone. “If there’s anything I can do to help, my door is always open.”

Iseult tried to nod. Swallowing suddenly became painful. Speech, impossible. Mercifully, Evrane let go of her arm and changed the subject.

“Now tell me, where is that cart you were talking about?”

“O-oh you d-don’t have to -” Iseult stammered. She immediately snapped her mouth shut. Hell-gates, did she have to stutter like that now? In front of Evrane!

The woman seemed to take no notice and simply waved a hand. “I am the director of this institution, am I not? I think I am more than capable of handling a couple books.”

“By circulation,” Iseult forced out. Evrane gave her an appreciative smile, then walked away, her silver circlets tinkling prettily in the quiet of the library.

For a moment, Iseult simply stood there, staring down the aisle where Evrane had left. Eventually, she untangled her earbuds and popped them back in. She opened Spotify on her phone and swiped through the playlist she’d been listening to before Evrane showed up. However, after a few minutes of mindless scrolling, stuffed her phone into her back pocket, abandoning her search. Silence filled her ears.

Iseult grabbed a random book off her cart. She read its cover, though not really taking in the the words, and when she went to find its place on the shelf, it was as though she had not read it at all. This happened with every book she picked up over the next ten minutes, and when she finally forgot the author of _The Autonomy of Dalmotti_ \- a book she had personally read at least five times - she finally gave up.

Frustration prickled the back of her throat. Gripping the book tight, she leaned her forehead against the oak bookcase. The smell of old paper filled her nose as she let her eyes to sink shut, breathing in the musty air through her nose. What she would give to fall head-first into a book right now...

 _Stasis,_ she told herself. _Stasis in your fingers and in your toes._

_Gretchya sick._

_Stasis._

_Evrane. Broken words. Broken._

_Stasis._

_Drop out. Drop. Out. Drop. Out._

_Stasis. Stasis. Stasis._

Over and over again Iseult silently whispered this to herself, until a familiar calm resettled in her chest, until every last thread of emotion was pulled tight. Nothing out of place. She took several more slow, deliberate breaths for good measure, then, she opened eyes.

That’s when she saw them.

Through the narrow opening between shelves, Iseult spied Evrane standing by the circulation desk. But it was who she was speaking with that caught Iseult’s attention.

It hadn’t taken Iseult long to familiarize herself with the people who passed through when she began working at the library. Though Venaza City was largely populated, the library had its regulars, and even those who visited only once in awhile had become catalogued in Iseult’s memory like the books she shelved. In fact, on more than one occasion, she found herself recognizing patrons outside of work - an oddly unpleasant experience. She already spent enough time dodging former college peers whenever she ventured out into the city. They now had competition.

That being said, Iseult knew nearly everyone who came to the library. Except for this man talking to her mentor.

Even from behind, there was something striking about him. He towered over Evrane, his imposing figure standing impossibly still in dark form-fitting jeans and a muddy burgundy leather jacket. Iseult wished he’d turn around so she could see his face. Regardless, two features immediately stood out. Or rather, accessories.

First, a blue, opal earring in his left ear. And second, the child held in his arms.

These two things seemed to clash together in Iseult’s mind. The girl, she guessed, was no more than five. A mop of dark hair obscured most of her face with only a red, chubby cheek visible resting on the man’s shoulder. As for the earring, Iseult wasn’t old-fashioned enough to believe men couldn’t wear jewelry. In fact, depending on the piercing’s style and placement, she found them rather appealing. However, the more closely Iseult looked at the gemstone, the more it called out to her as some sort of statement - and not one of the fashion variety. It lent little to the rest of his dark ensemble and stuck out like a sore thumb. It was too ornate. Too deliberate. Something worn out of habit.

Iseult inched forward, bracing a hand along the edge of the shelf as she watched from her hiding place amongst the books. She knew she was teetering on the edge of polite observation and straight-up creeping, but she was too curious to care. Evrane stood close to the young man, too close for him to be an ordinary patron. And there was something in the way that she looked at him that gave her the impression that she wasn’t simply giving him a book recommendation. Even through the warmth Iseult was so familiar with in her expression, she couldn’t miss the urgency in her eyes. Her lips were moving carefully, and she imagined the melodic gentleness of her voice, the same voice that had spoken to her only moments ago. Soft words only meant for him.

As if on cue, Evrane reached for his arm.

Iseult immediately noticed the mystery man’s shoulders stiffen. It was the first indication of life she’d seen from him during the entire encounter. A pulse ticked in his jaw, the only sliver of his pale face she could see. Evrane had stopped talking, but kept her hand on his arm, her thumb gliding back and forth, and appeared to be listening attentively to the man’s response. But as the seconds dragged on, her eyes - never wavering from his - glimmered with a touch of something new. Sadness, perhaps. Her expression dimmed, and eventually the hand holding his arm stopped moving and returned to her side.

Iseult’s nose was practically brushing the books blocking her from view now. Who was this guy? Evrane had never spoken of family or a significant other. On one occasion, she had mentioned a nephew - something about how he’d just returned home after studying abroad. But other than that, no one else. This couldn’t be him, could it? He had a child with him. A child who - Iseult suddenly realized with a jolt of horror - was staring right at her.

“What are you doing lurking in the shadows?”

 _The Autonomy of Dalmotti_ dropped to the floor with a rustle of paper and a soft thump as she whirled around. How her best friend had managed to sneak up on her in the dead silence of the library without her hearing, Iseult didn’t know, but the self-satisfied look Safi was pinning her with made her curse the Moon Mother for turning her momentarily deaf.

“If by lurking you mean shelving books,” Iseult replied smoothly, kneeling down to pick up the fallen book as though nothing had happened, “I’m working. It’s kind of in my job description.”

Safi cocked her head to the side, eyebrow arched. “Is spying on hot guys in your job description? Can’t see his face, but the view from behind is certainly enough to go on.”

Iseult felt a rush of unwanted heat flood her cheeks, but aside from that, her face betrayed nothing. Yes, she had been spying. But not in the way Safi thought, and the idea that she had been caught not only by her best friend, but by that strange little girl made her want to tear every book from the shelf and bury herself underneath them.

“What?” Safi persisted innocently as Iseult turned her back to her. She slipped _The Autonomy of Dalmotti_ between two volumes, not particularly caring whether or not that was where it belonged so long as she didn’t have to see the infuriating smirk on Safi’s face. “I don’t blame you. You can’t be expected to stare at dusty, old books all day - no matter how much you love them.”

“Wanna bet?” Iseult muttered. For all her love of the library, she had thought she’d be back in school by now, trading in its dusty, old books for overpriced textbooks.

“I’d love to. Tonight, in fact. At The Cleaved Man.”

“I - ” Iseult began, but Safi’s hand slashed through the air cutting her off and she pointed a finger in Iseult’s face.

“Don’t say you can’t! I’ve barely seen you all week!”

“As if that’s my fault,” Iseult countered, grabbing another book and the opportunity to turn the tables. The last thing she wanted to do right now was spend the night in an overcrowded bar. “Where were you last night? You never came home.”

Safi picked up a book from Iseult’s cart and examined its cover. “Polly’s.”

Iseult paused mid-shelving. “Leopold’s?”

“Mhm.” Safi opened the book, casually flipping through its pages. Silence stretched. She looked up. “What?”

“I thought you weren’t going to see him again,” Iseult said, watching her friend carefully.

Safi lowered the book and frowned in confusion. “Not see him? What are you - ?” But as soon as the unfinished question left her mouth, Iseult saw the life in her eyes freeze for half a heartbeat, and comprehension slowly dawned on Safi’s face. A second later, her expression hardened. “Hell-gates, Iz! I didn’t mean _him._ ”

Him. Or as he was known as in their apartment, the Chiseled Cheater. To the rest of the world, he was simply Caden. Handsome, strong-jawed, infuriatingly charming Caden.

Safi gave Iseult a disparaging look before snapping shut her own book and stuffing it onto a shelf where - Iseult noted - it should not be. Now wasn’t a good time to be pointing out mistakes. The hard line of her pursed lips may have grown taut like she was fighting to feign indifference, but Iseult knew when her best friend was hurt. And this time, it was _her_ fault. Safi crossed her arms tightly over her chest.

“Like I’d ever,” Safi huffed, tossing her unruly sun-streaked hair over her shoulder, looking anywhere but Iseult. She let out a strained laugh and shook her head as though the thought of her and Caden together was ludicrous - though, it didn’t stop a tinge of pink blossoming across her cheeks. “Spend the night with him. Honestly, Iz. You know we’ve never - _I’ve_ never -”

Pink turned to a vibrant red as she struggled for words before making a disgruntled noise and giving up.

“Sorry,” Iseult murmured, her expression void of all emotion. “I was just worried.”

Safi finally met Iseult’s gaze. The silence of the library was deafening. Then, she shook her head. “It’s fine,” she relented, and Iseult was relieved to hear sincerity in the statement that was universally known to mean the opposite. “I don’t blame you. I mean... he _is_ Polly’s roommate and it’s _me_ so…” Safi’s eyes darted away self-consciously and she took a fortifying breath, arms unwinding from her chest and hands bracing themselves on her hips. When she spoke next, there was no question as to whether or not they were moving on from the subject of the Chiseled Cheater. “By the time we got out of Two Left Feet and grabbed dinner, it was so late that I just ended up crashing at his place.”

“Two Left Feet?” Iseult repeated. 

“Modern dance," Safi replied, as though this was the most ordinary explanation in the world. 

“Oh.” Iseult wasn’t sure what to say to that. “I didn’t know we had a modern dance company.” Or that Safi was _interested_ in modern dance. “Um, how was it?”

“If that’s what modern dance is, then I’m not sure what I’ve been doing at the club all these years.”

“Two Left Feet.” Iseult paused. Her mouth twitched. “Seems like a counterintuitive name.”

“Ohh no trust me, they hit the mark on that one.”

Any hint of a smile left Iseult’s face. “Please tell me you didn’t heckle them.”

Safi’s hand flew to chest and she gasped. “Heckle? Us? Two purebred members of high society like ourselves? You insult me.”

“Don’t scoff. Last year you two almost single-handedly disassembled Pobody’s Nerfect.”

Safi shrugged half-heartedly. “It was an improv show. It’s supposed to be interactive.”

“You made that freshmen kid cry! I could have sworn I overheard him talking about transferring as we were leaving.”

“Audience participation was encouraged!” argued Safi. “Besides, the fact that we even went to their little dance performance was generous enough. You think I wanted to spend the first Thursday night of the semester watching people roll around on the floor trying to sell it to me as art?”

“Then why _did_ you?”

“We were expanding our horizons?” Iseult rolled her eyes and turned back to her books as Safi laughed. “I don’t know. We were walking around campus after class and saw the sign and I was like, “Well, I have nothing else to do” so -” She stopped suddenly, as though a thought had just thought of something. “Should I have texted you? It didn’t even occur to me that you’d want to go to something like that.”

The concern in the question made Iseult pause… which irked her. The concern or the pause, she couldn’t tell which. Maybe because if she had been on campus with her and Leopold, there wouldn’t be a question of whether she’d have gone. Safi would have dragged her in there whether she liked it or not, and Iseult would have gone along with whatever Safi wanted to do as she always did - good idea or not. Modern dance would have been decidedly not. That never stopped Safi, though. Or Iseult.

“No,” Iseult simply answered.

Safi nodded, and though it was almost imperceptible, Iseult saw her lips purse, like she wasn’t entirely convinced. “Next time,” she only promised.

“There’s going to be a next time?”

“You never know.” Safi’s sea-blue eyes flashed mischievously. “Come on, I’ll show you a couple moves I learned at the Cleaved Man.” She gyrated her hips for emphasis, causing Iseult to look away embarrassed on her behalf. This only prompted Safi to bump Iseult’s hip with her own.

“Saf, I wasn’t kidding before,” Iseult insisted, stumbling over her feet as Safi went in for a second, more forceful hip check. “I really can’t -”

“Hey, you owe me after that comment about Chiseled Cheater!”

“30 seconds ago you were saying that I was right!” Really, the grudges this girl could hold. Iseult almost felt sorry for Caden.

Safi heaved a wistful sigh. “You know, if I could come keep you company at work, I would.”

“I’d never get anything done,” Iseult said, gesturing the pile of untouched books on the cart between them.

“Right. As if I’m the one distracting you, you little stalker.”

“I wasn’t -” Iseult began to protest, but Safi was already backing away down the aisle, doing what had to be the world’s worst attempt at the moonwalk.

“I’ll be warming up the car!” Safi whisper hissed, rattling her car keys in the air for emphasis. When she reached the end of the aisle, she spun around on the spot theatrically, and then she was gone.

Iseult shook her head after her ridiculous, _wonderful_ best friend, then peered down at the pile of books in her cart. An hour ago she had been daydreaming of ordering the Arithuanian take-out that Safi never wanted to get and hunker down with one of her all-time favorite books, _The Raider King_. She’d be in bed by 9 and asleep by 9:15.

So much for that.

It was ironic, really. Safi could rant all she wanted about the injustices of the modern day collegiate system, but no amount of theoretical scheming to take down the patriarchy would change the fact that Iseult missed college.

She missed waking up every day and knowing where she was going and what she was doing. She missed her textbooks. She missed late night cram sessions at the university library with Safi and getting nothing done, aside from gaining 15 pounds from vending machine snacks. She missed misty morning walks to her 8 A.M. seminar. She missed the notes Leopold would pass her during Professor Rosa's soul-killing lectures. Heck, she missed her lectures.

And of course, she missed the dining hall hash browns.

So naturally - _naturally_ \- the only thing she didn’t miss about college was the one thing she couldn’t escape.

The college bar scene.

Iseult hadn’t taken Safi seriously when she announced one day just before summer break that she would be getting her bartender license. It seemed to be the thing every college student said the second after they turned 21. For Safi to voluntarily subject herself to 40 hours worth of training courses was enough to give Iseult doubt. However, unlike the rest of those drunk idiots, Safi was true to her word, and in no time, she started bartending at Venaza City’s most popular college bar, the Cleaved Man.

 _Moon Mother, kill me now,_ Iseult prayed as she pushed her book cart down the aisle. Its rickety wheels squeaked horridly in the cavernous hall. She cringed inwardly knowing that the second she turned the corner, all eyes would be narrowed on her, silently shaming her for disturbing the peace. Halfway down, though, she hesitated. The wheels grinded to a halt.

Ignoring the sick embarrassment bubbling in her stomach at what she was about to do, Iseult cast a look over her shoulder to make sure Safi was truly gone. Then, she leaned forward and peered between the stacks of books.

The mystery man and his little companion were gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A night at the Cleaved Man turns both Safi and Iseult's worlds upside down after an explosive confrontation with an uptight Nubrevnan and an unexpected romantic gesture from a close friend...

There was a certain art to it, Iseult had to admit. Bartending, that is. 

Safi darted every which way behind the bar, hands reaching for bottles and canisters without thought and pouring liquids and syrups of all colors into an endless supply of glasses at breakneck speed. Just when Iseult thought the place had reached its peak hour, a fresh wave of college kids invaded the counter. Iseult wasn’t sure how a place as cramped as The Cleaved Man managed to pack so many bodies. For a bar as ancient as it was, she supposed being forced to get up close and personal with eligible strangers was half its appeal. 

Not for Iseult though. She isolated herself on her usual perch at the very end of the bar by the swinging half-door that led behind the counter, still wearing the outfit she wore at the library: a thick black knitted sweater, matching jeans, and laced-up boots. No one bothered her, save for one unfortunate soul at the beginning of the night. He looked relatively harmless - if you could call a salmon pink polo shirt and khakis shorts in mid-winter harmless. But that didn’t stop Iseult from squeezing a lemon slice in his eyes when he wouldn’t take a hint that she wasn’t interested.

When he had turned to Safi, face dripping wet and eyes stinging red, clearly expecting to see some sort of reprimand dished out, she only shrugged.

“That’s what they’re for,” she said and plopped a fresh slice into the drink she’d just finished mixing and offered it pointedly to a girl on his other side. “Good luck out there,” she told her.

The girl grinned and raised her glass to Safi in thanks, turning to leave, but not without giving the open-mouthed guy a meaningful look. 

After that, the evening was considerably less exciting. For Iseult, at least. For everyone else, the night was just getting started. 

Walking into the Cleaved Man, you could easily expect its raucous crowd to break out into a sea shanty at the drop of a hat. It was like stepping into one of Iseult’s beloved swashbuckling tales, with its musty smell, fat wooden tables, and rickety benches. There were even giant beer barrels tucked into the tight space’s dark corners serving as makeshift seating that Safi swore were older than the bar’s current owner. Ornate, wooden chandeliers hung from iron chains, strewn with strings of white lights, a nice modern touch that doused the room in a soft, golden glow. While swarms of college kids hovered around the bar, smaller, more intimate parties clustered together in cozy booths, each with a single candle flickering bright upon the table, illuminating the smiles and laughter of their occupants. Only a few diamond checkered stained glass windows lining the front of house offered the passersby a small glimpse of the merriment contained within. 

Iseult appreciated the fantasy of it. There was something romantically atmospheric to it. In a historic sort of way, if that was possible. If it weren’t for the thrumming music and the mounting inebriation pressing in on all sides of her, she would have loved to come here with a book and simply read. 

“How are those limes coming, Iz?” Safi called over the music, not looking up from the glass she was shooting Sprite into. 

“I’m almost -” Iseult began, but Safi was already there, sweeping whatever slices she had off the cutting board into a tin bucket and hurrying away, “-done.” She speared another lime and got back to chopping. 

Friday nights were one of the busiest nights of the week, but they became even busier when you were working for two - as Safi was tonight. She wasn’t technically alone. But Stix seemed more interested in picking up girls than serving drinks. 

Whereas Safi was a whirlwind of frantic energy, Stacia “Stix” Sotar leaned completely at ease against the counter at the other end of the bar. Across from her a girl with badly dyed red hair spoke animatedly, eating maraschino cherries from a glass and wearing a dollar store tiara. She was clearly the matriarch of her group, as the rest of her friends - overly made up for a night at the Cleaved Man - stood adoringly around her, sipping their drinks and bursting into fits of laughter more often than was believable. The birthday girl’s heavily painted eyes never left Stix, and Iseult had lost count of how many times her hand consciously fingered the bedazzled sash advertising “21 and HOT, buy me a SHOT” draped across her generous chest. 

Well, Stix had clearly seen to the shot. What service. 

Iseult’s attention lingered a moment longer before sparing a glance to the rest of the bar. The evening was definitely in full swing. People had long since moved onto their second or third drink, graduating to shots and plates stacked high with wings or cheesy nachos. At the eye of the impending storm, Iseult spotted a familiar face that could not have looked more out of place. 

Lounging languorously in sky blue, Leopold shuffled a deck of cards at one of the small round tables in the center of the room. Keeping him company were his roommates Lev, Zander, and - much to Iseult’s displeasure - Chiseled Cheater. It shouldn’t have bothered her as much as it did. They lived together after all; he had as much right to hang out with them as anyone else. Still...

As though hearing her thought, Leopold turned in Iseult’s direction and met her gaze. His face lit up and he flashed her a criminally stunning smile, burning like a beacon amidst the sweat and alcohol swirling around him. He immediately beckoned for her to join them. She shook her head. 

_Why?_ he mouthed.

Iseult skewered a lime and held it up. 

Leopold’s lips pursed, accentuating their natural pink plushness. His finger tapped the table, and with a quick word to his companions, he tossed the cards down with a little more flourish than was necessary and slipped away. As he made his way towards Iseult, he moved through the crowd like a snake, disturbing no one and going unnoticed. Well, not completely unnoticed. A fair amount of heads turned to catch more than a periphery glimpse of his deliciously carved cheekbones and silky waves of strawberry blonde hair. 

“Was that lime a metaphor for what you’re going to do to me for sharing a drink with Caden?” he drawled, sidling up to Iseult. “Or have we seriously fallen to such a level of co-dependence that our dear Safi can no longer do her job without pawning some of the load off onto you?”

Iseult sliced into a particularly juicy lime and let the satisfying squelch answer for her. Leopold shook his head with an amused chuckle, and before Iseult could protest, he plucked a slice from the cutting board and popped it into his mouth. 

“Mmm what a sweet death it will be,” he said in between suckles. If it had been anyone else, Iseult would have been disgusted by such an obnoxious display - and in a public place no less. But Leopold had a way of making even the grossest practices seem sophisticated. Sensuous, even. 

“Limes are bitter,” Iseult corrected.

“Not with you at the end of the knife.” 

Iseult looked at him. He licked a runaway trail of juice from his thumb, far too invested in the lime to notice Iseult staring. His lips were red and wet, glistening obscenely under the halo of stringed lights hovering above him. She couldn’t help it; her face warmed. 

But when he tossed the lime slice into the open garbage can behind the counter, it was like he’d said nothing. 

“Do I need to call social services?” he pressed in a mock whisper that was sure to reach Safi’s ears. “Is she keeping you here against your will?”

“Ha-ha,” Safi interjected, slapping a towel onto the counter and wiping it down. Leopold lurched back as she made a pass near him. 

“Watch the sleeves, love,” he chastised with a small, but noticeable pout that only made Iseult stare at his lips again. 

“Oh Polly, you wouldn’t be you if you weren’t fussing over your designer shirt of the day, but you came to the wrong place if you expected to not be spilt on at least twice.”

Leopold gave a disdainful huff. “Tell me about it,” he muttered, scrutinizing a spot on his shirt that was only visible to him. After a moment, he clucked his tongue and abandoned the fabric with a note of disgust. “I’d be at Arlenni’s Loop if it weren’t for the company - which brings me back to my original question. Are you going to keep poor Iseult here shackled to you all night or are going to let her actually enjoy herself?” 

“She’s keeping me company. What could be more fun than that?”

Iseult kept her gaze downcast, suddenly needing to cut each lime slice with exact precision.

Leopold turned away from Safi like she hadn’t said anything. “You should join us. We were just about to start a game of -”

“We don’t need to play any more games with your lot, thank you,” Safi cut in, brandishing her rag and earning an affronted glare from Leopold. 

“ _Excuse me_ , since when does ‘Iseult’ mean ‘we’? And what exactly do you mean by “my lot”?”

“You know exactly what I mean.” Safi gave the table he’d just left a withering glare. Leopold followed it over his shoulder, then turned back to her, frowning. 

“For Noden’s sake, Safi. This is overdoing it - even for you.” He watched her, waiting for a response, but she said nothing, attention trained on the row of glasses she was now wiping dry. When it was clear she wasn’t going to concede, he breathed an impatient sigh, then, designer sleeves and all, leaned against the counter and drew himself closer to Safi. Understanding softened his expression, but his lips twitched.

“Now, love,” he began delicately, “I know you fancied yourself his girlfriend -” 

“I did not!” Safi barked, slamming a glass onto the counter and sending water droplets flying. She glared at Leopold, eyes blazing. _“He stole our apartment, Leopold!”_

Leopold was entirely unaffected, even though his shirt was now spattered. He simply drew away from the counter, straightening and crossing his arms. “Oh boo-hoo, Safiya. So you let slip to a guy you made-out with that you found the perfect off-campus apartment and he swooped in and snagged it for himself. That hardly makes him a thief.” 

“It’s _how_ he got the information that matters,” Iseult intervened, feeling that she had let the two childhood friends’ bickering go on long enough. Safi nodded fervently in agreement. 

Leopold clucked his tongue in distaste. “Oh stop that. A lot of things happened at Vaness’ end-of-the-year party, but you being taken advantage of was not one of them. Call him an asshole if you must, but don’t turn him into something he isn’t.”

Iseult’s heart lurched at the mention of Vaness’ infamous end-of-the-year party, but she swallowed it down. “He took advantage of her feelings.”

“We all do at one point or another in our lives, whether we mean to or not,” Leopold said, giving her an almost pitying look. “Heartbreak, dished out or taken, is an unfortunate side effect of having _feelings_.”

Iseult’s nose twitched. What her mother would have had to say about that. But even as she looked into Leopold’s sparkling sea green eyes, she couldn’t help but feel a trail of unease crawl up her spine. 

“Why does it even matter?” he pressed on. There was a strained edge to his voice as he ran a distracted hand through his perfectly coiffed hair. “I saved the day and now you have an open invitation to our place at my behest and can torture Caden with your presence til the end of your days.”

This part was true at least. Leopold _had_ swooped in and snagged the fourth room Caden, Lev, and Zander needed to fill. And he _had_ used his status to forgo any scrupulous tenant screenings and ensure the landlord’s lease papers were signed before anyone could do anything to stop it. It had been brilliant, actually. And he had done it all on his own. 

“What am I supposed to do?” Leopold looked imploringly between Safi and Iseult. “Not talk to them?”

Safi sniffed and raised her chin in the air. “That would be preferable, yes.”

Leopold stared at her. “You are impossible,” he declared finally, to which Safi merely shrugged. Annoyance flickered across his face and he ran his hand through his hair again, cursing under his breath, “At least you got a good lay out of it.”

“What??” Safi sputtered, eyes blown wide with panic and darting between Leopold and Iseult. “We didn’t - _did he tell you that?!_ ”

“No,” Leopold admitted sounding equally unamused. “That was wishful thinking on my part.”

The two of them glared at each other, neither one looking happy with the other. For a second, Iseult thought Safi would throw something at him. Her dirty rag perhaps. Or a bar glass. That would be a first. But instead, her expression frosted over and she hefted the plastic bin of newly washed glasses against her hip. They clinked noisily against each other.

“Go away, Polly. Or you’ll have more than a stain on your shirt to cry about.” She regarded Leopold cooly, then strode away, leaving him and Iseult alone.

Iseult shifted in her seat and situated herself back over her cutting board. “I’d take her advice seriously. Those bar guns shoot surprisingly far. I’ve seen them in action.”

“If it means getting a drink…” Leopold trailed off, and to Iseult’s surprise, he drew up an empty stool seemingly out of thin air and plopped himself down next to her. He leaned into her conspiratorially. “What are the odds of her making me a drink that isn’t laced with strychnine? Should I go bother Stix?”

Iseult glanced across the bar. Stix was still working her magic on the “birthday bitch” as she’d overheard one of her loud friends dub her. Her obnoxious red curls bounced as threw her head back and let out a shriek of laughter at something hilarious Stix apparently said. Iseult noticed Safi roll her eyes in irritation as she tried to take the order of a big burly guy towering behind the group. 

“You’d have to be a girl to get her attention,” she muttered, reaching for a lemon.

Leopold frowned, eyeing the group with mild interest. “Surely I’m as pretty as one, wouldn’t you say?” He drew himself back, so that his form was on full display for Iseult. He grinned and gave her an optimistic sort of look that brought out his natural boyish charm. “Couldn’t hurt to give it a shot. Especially if it means avoiding my untimely death.”

Iseult didn’t respond. His untimely death didn’t sound so bad right now. Leopold seemed to have read her mind because after a moment of awkward silence, he reached out and covered the hand holding her knife with his.

“Iseult," he said softly, and Iseult's hand twitched under his. He paused. "I didn’t mean what I said. Safi means more to me than… well, anyone. I’d never do anything intentionally upset her. I love her.” 

His voice was pitched low so that only Iseult could hear him, but every word rang true and clear. She slowly turned to look at him and something in his face relaxed when her eyes met his. He was so close to her she could see the little flecks of blue in his eyes bloom with every blink. The strands of red in his lashes. He licked his lips... and she hated herself for looking there too. 

“But,” he resumed cautiously, “I’m tired of her getting on my case for this. It’s not fair. I haven’t done anything wrong, and look - I know you would face Noden and his Hagfishes before admitting it, but I think you know that Safi needs to let this go. If not for my sake, then for hers.” 

Iseult blinked. No one knew her better than Safi… which was why she was so stunned with how close Leopold came to hitting the truth. But it was like he said, she’d take on Noden and his Hagfishes before admitting Safi was wrong.

Leopold squeezed her hand in understanding and let go. Iseult immediately pulled it into her lap, only then realizing how warm it had felt under his. She clasped her other hand and fidgeted with the silver ring around her index finger. 

Leopold hopped off his stool and brushed his hands on the front of his pants, as though he’d dirtied himself through the mere act of sitting. He pointed to Iseult’s half-empty glass. “Do you need another juice box?”

Iseult grabbed the drink out from under the scrutiny of his finger and took a defensive sip from her straw. It had a watery taste to it, all the ice cubes nearly melted to nothing. “No, I’m good.” 

The corner of Leopold’s mouth curved up and the dimple on his cheek became a winking star. “Yes, you are,” he purred, backing away into the crowd, “So very, very good.”

And then he was gone. Iseult gaped at the spot, not sure of what had just happened, and turned in a daze to the end of the bar where Stix stood. Sure enough, Leopold reappeared, slipping smoothly between closely pressed together shoulders and then leaning against the bar without taking any notice of the half dozen or so faces gawking at him for so blatantly cutting the line. Or maybe he simply didn’t care. Even Birthday Bitch was looking at him like she couldn’t believe he was real as his lips moved with ease. That is, until Stix started laughing at something he’d said. A true, genuine sound.

The girl didn’t like that. 

With a scandalized look at the pair, she swiped her drink off the counter and took a pouty sip as she hobbled off her stool. Leopold gracefully took her place without sparing the girl a glance, and even had the audacity to plop a maraschino cherry in his mouth. Iseult saw Birthday Bitch look over her shoulder a couple times to see if Stix had noticed she’d left. 

She didn’t. Not even a little, judging by the pen and napkin she was sliding Leopold’s way. 

“Unbelievable,” muttered Safi, joining Iseult and watching Leopold scribble what could only be his name and number onto the napkin. 

“Admit it, you’re impressed,” Iseult said. Safi only let out a mirthless laugh and turned her back on them just in time to miss Leopold slide the napkin back to Stix with a wink before disappearing back into the crowd. She grabbed a lemon slice and shoved it in her mouth.

“He even got her to work,” Iseult added, ignoring the loud noises coming from Safi’s passionate assault on her lemon and nodding over her shoulder to where Stix was miraculously making a round of drinks. “He’ll have you groveling at his feet by midnight.”

Safi swiped another lemon slice and made to shove it in Iseult’s mouth. Iseult dodged the attack, and when Safi tried again, Iseult only scrunched her face and ducked a second time. As childish as it was, it set both girls to laughing, a welcome sound to Iseult’s ears after such a long night. Safi and Leopold bickered all the time, but she hated to see her so wound up over something so inconsequential as Chiseled Cheater. Her friend didn’t wear hurt as well as she thought she did. 

Safi finally stuffed the lemon into her own mouth. “At least I can take a break now,” she said grudgingly, though her expression remained at ease. She swung her hair over her shoulder and stole a glance at Stix. “Who do you think it’s for?” 

Iseult wasn’t sure if she meant the drinks or the napkin Leopold slipped Stix. She decided on the napkin. “Stix, of course.”

“Please, he’s not _that_ good,” Safi muttered distantly as her eyes scanned the bar. “My vote is for the birthday bazongas over there.”

“ _Safi_.”

“What? They’re huge!” Safi made an emphatic, and entirely unnecessary, gesture with her hands. “Don’t tell me you didn’t notice!”

Iseult’s nose twitched, but didn’t say anything.

“See,” insisted Safi with with all the maturity of a five-year-old. “And trust me, if we noticed, Polly _definitely_ noticed.” 

Something needled Iseult’s chest. “You don’t know what kind of girl he likes.” 

Safi opened her mouth to comment, but a tray of drinks magically appearing interrupted them. 

“Special delivery,” trilled Stix, lifting a glass off the tray balanced on her hand and placing it in front of Iseult. Her braided white hair was piled high on top of her head and up close, Iseult could see blue and silver beads woven into the tightly wound strands. 

“I didn’t order anything,” she said automatically, eyeing the colorful concoction like she didn’t know what it was. 

Other people might have been put off by Iseult’s inflectionless voice, but Stix only smiled, showing off the gap between her two front teeth.

“You can thank Prince Charming over there,” she said, nodding. Both Iseult and Safi’s heads spun to where she gestured, but somehow Iseult already knew who she’d find.

Gold waves rippled under the lights as Leopold tipped his head back and shook with laughter. The deck of taro cards was back in his hands and he was in the process of dealing a round to Lev, Zander, and Chiseled Cheater, the cards flying from his long, delicate fingers and sliding across the table. Dumbly, Iseult turned back to beverage sitting in front of her and inspected it. It was like a sunset in a cup, all orange, yellow, and red bleeding brilliantly together. She didn’t reach for it, though, or give it a taste. 

Iseult eyes slid to the napkin set beside beside it and she noticed there was something scrawled on it. She peeled it off the bar and slowly held it up to read. Her heart was pounding. Why was her heart pounding? _Stasis, Iseult. Stasis._

Iseult looked up from the napkin and back at Leopold. He wasn’t even watching to see what her reaction would be. In fact, the only person distracted from their card game was Chiseled Cheater, and he definitely wasn’t looking at Iseult. 

Even from afar, Iseult could see the small line that wormed between Caden’s brows whenever she caught him looking at Safi. He was in the middle of drinking his beer when his gaze strayed to her, the bottle hovering briefly over his lips before he indulged in another long swig and turned away.

Unfortunately for Iseult, Safi wasn’t paying attention to him. The only thing she was gawking at was the fruity monolith standing between them.

“You’re right,” Safi declared breaking the silence. “I _don’t_ know what kind of girl he likes.”

Iseult said nothing. She picked up the glass, set it down next to her cranberry juice, wiped away the ring of condensation it had left behind, and returned to her knife and lemon like the drink had been a figment of their imagination.

Of course, Iseult knew never in a million years would Safi leave it at that. 

“So when did this happen?” 

A surprise spurt of lemon juice shot into Iseult’s eye, but she willed it not to blink through the stinging pain. _Stasis, Iseult. Stasis in your fingers and in your toes._ “Nothing is happening.” 

“Uh, this very loud drink begs to differ.”

“Well, drink it and then it’ll shut up.”

“I’m not drinking your love juice.”

Iseult’s breath hitched in disgust. “ _Please_ don’t call it that.”

“Well, what else am I supposed to call it?” Safi asked, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “You won’t tell me what it is!”

“It’s nothing,” Iseult replied evenly, blank expression betraying nothing. Because it _was_ nothing. There was no way Leopold had feelings for her. They were strictly friends. That was it. 

Safi snorted when she told her just that. “Right. And I’m the queen of Cartorra.”

“That explains it then,” a voice called. 

Both Safi and Iseult looked around to see who had spoken. It was difficult with the bar crowded as it was. Then, a young Nubrevnan man sitting a couple seats away wearing a crisp white shirt unbuttoned dangerously low leaned forward and cocked his head.

“Why you can’t be bothered to serve your subjects,” he elaborated, acknowledging the people on either side of him with a curt nod before drawing back to Safi.

Safi and Iseult shared a look, one that confirmed the unspoken: this guy was an ass. 

The corners of Safi’s quirked and she turned back, slow and purposefully, to the man. “Can I help you?”

The flat of the man’s hand slapped the table. “Now she hears me!” he exclaimed in mock surprise to the crowd, playing them for a response and flashing a good-natured smile despite his antagonizing demeanor being anything but. Annoyance fluttered in Iseult’s chest as people laughed. Drunk people were so easily amused. 

“Excuse me?” Safi shot back.

A man - no, scratch that - a _giant_ standing behind the seated Nubrevnan leaned down to speak loudly next to his ear. “May have spoken too soon, Cap.”

More people laughed, but Iseult only mentally rolled her eyes. Cap? As in captain? Oh yeah. This guy was definitely a douche. 

The giant flashed Safi what Iseult assumed must have been a smile, though it twisted unnaturally across his pale face. Iseult discreetly nudged the bucket of freshly cut lemon slices towards Safi, but she waved her off, not taking her eyes off the man sitting in front of her. Though, Iseult didn’t miss the nearly indistinguishable nod letting her know she knew it was there in case she decided to change tactics. Now all she had to do was sit back and enjoy the show.

“Are you going to order anything or not?” Safi asked in a bored voice.

He made a show of considering it. “I don’t know,” he mused loftily, resting his well-tanned arms on the counter. He leaned forward. “What are the odds of getting our drinks within this calendar year?”

“Slim,” Safi replied automatically. She approached the counter, meeting his advance with a little extra swing in her hips, a lioness hunting her prey. “But how would you even know?” she added as she planted herself in front of him. Her hands swept deftly over the burnished wood counter, arms stretching long on either side of her until she was taking as much space as possible. “You clearly don’t own a calendar. Did you not notice that it’s January? Or do you not know how a button works?”

Much to Iseult’s satisfaction, the man flushed. He glared at Safi. “I know how a button works.”

“So you’re just stupid, then” she retorted. A murmur of amusement rippled through the crowd, music to Safi’s ears, and she stood a little taller. Her mouth twisted as she gave him a cursory look. “Why even bother putting on a shirt if you’re just going to wear it like -” she gestured vaguely to his exposed chest “- _that?_ ”

The giant’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you saying he should take it off?” He turned to the crowd as he suggested it, opening the heavy-handed question to everyone. He knew what he was doing. The bar immediately erupted into cheers. The space was so small that even people who weren’t close enough to know what was going on hollered their support, clapped their hands, pumped their fists into the air - _anything_ for a chance at a flash of nudity. 

The giant circled the spot where he stood, towering over the crowd and nodding his approval. “The people have spoken!” he declared over the noise and the bar responded with another enthusiastic cat call of approval. The giant’s smile grew bigger and more terrifying. He clapped his friend on the shoulder and gave him a friendly jostle.

But the man merely shrugged him off and sank lower into the bar, keeping his gaze downturned. Several strands of his dark swept back hair fell across his forehead, but weren’t long enough to hide the crimson flush from earlier that had deepened on his bronze cheeks. Then, without warning, his rich brown eyes fluttered back up to Safi and he looked nothing like he had moments ago. Now he looked shy. _Handsome_. 

Iseult couldn’t see Safi’s face, but she knew. She _knew_ all it took was one look and Safi would melt. She had learned that the hard way with Chiseled Cheater.

But Chiseled Cheater had never looked at Safi like this. Chiseled Cheater was a practiced player. He tossed around charming smiles and easy jokes, dished out compliments in heaps, lured young women into shadowed corners with promises and heady kisses - and through it all, his mask never fell out of place. 

Not this young Nubrevnan, though. In his silence, he was completely bare to Safi. 

But a second later, whoever had been sitting before Safi, looking at her like maybe he’d wished they could start over, was gone. The young man’s brow furrowed and his eyes narrowed with a keen sharpness. 

“I know you,” he murmured, almost to himself, scrutinizing Safi like he was seeing her clearly for the very first time. Safi opened her mouth to object, but he barreled through her protests. “Yeah,” he said with more confidence, and suddenly his eyes were on Iseult who, up until that point, had gone unnoticed by the Nubrevnan. He wagged a stiff finger from her to Safi. “I recognize you! You’re the Breakfast Bandits!” 

“What?” Safi snapped at the same time Iseult blurted incredulously, “They call us the Breakfast Bandits?”

The man crossed his arms triumphantly, rolling his broad shoulders as he leaned back on his stool. The gesture pulled his shirt open even wider, exposing a generous amount of his muscled chest. Clearly his modesty had been short-lived.

Safi mirrored his pose. “So what if we are?”

Whatever amusement the man had gained from messing with Safi vanished. His tone turned serious. “You’re stealing food.”

Safi gave a disbelieving laugh. “I’d hardly call it stealing. Not when we’re paying thousands to go their precious little school.” 

Iseult pressed her lips together. It probably wasn’t worth mentioning that Safi had a fully-paid scholarship or that she’d dropped out five months ago.

“Besides,” Safi spurred on, “where do you think all that leftover food goes at the end of the day? In the garbage. We were just taking what would have been thrown away.”

Strangely, this seemed to anger the Nubrevnan even more. “That _food_ doesn’t get thrown away,” he gritted out. “That food is divided and delivered to local homeless shelters.”

“Oh? And how would you know that?”

“Because _I’m_ the one who does it.”

The space between them dropped dead. Iseult could practically feel Safi’s stunned shock pulsing off her. Somewhere overhead, Lizzo cried about great men. 

“You-” Safi stammered, reminding Iseult of her own cursed stutter.

“Me and my crew,” the man explained, scowl deepening. There was no triumph in his voice this time. “We divy what’s left over at the end of the night, load it up in my truck, and deliver it to shelters here and in neighboring cities. Every day. We usually finish up around 2 in the morning.”

It was a first. Safi was at a loss for words.

Still scowling, the Nubrevnan shook his head and rose up from his stool. Standing, he was a full head taller than Safi. He glared down at her, his eyes searching her face. Despite the obvious contempt pulsing off him, it was almost like he was hoping she would say something. 

But she didn’t. 

He breathed in deeply, struggling to remain in control of his emotions, and his nostrils flared. “You may think it’s just one hash brown,” he finally uttered in a low voice, “that you’re entitled to it. But to someone who hasn’t eaten in a week, it’s the difference between life in death.”

Again, Safi said nothing. Iseult noticed that the giant was no longer smiling. In fact, _no one_ was smiling. And the longer the Nubrevnan glared at Safi, the more fed up with he seemed to become, until finally he succumbed and he ripped his jacket off his stool. A violent movement that made Safi flinch. 

“You can forget about those drinks, _domna_ ,” he announced as he punched his arms through the coat sleeves. He didn’t look at her. He simply flicked up his jacket collar and spun away on his heel. People stepped out of his way as he marched towards the front entrance in long, determined strides. The giant and the rest of his crew followed in his wake. 

However, when he reached the door, his hand hesitated on the handle. His head turned half a centimeter, then froze. Like he had to actively stop himself from turning to look back. But his gaze slid to Safi anyway, two dark moorings along the brim of his jacket collar. For a second, Iseult thought she caught another glimpse of that shy young man from earlier, but before she could decide if what she’d seen was real or not, he yanked open the door and stormed out into the night. 

Safi stood motionless, staring after him long after the door slammed shut. Iseult ransacked her brain for something to say, _anything_... but nothing came. It appeared that the Nubrevnan had not only taken Safi’s voice, but Iseult’s as well. 

The rest of the night passed in silence between them. Safi went about serving customers and making drinks, though with none of her previous vigor. She navigated the bar on autopilot, any exchange made subdued. Iseult recognized the faraway look in her eyes. It was the same one she wore whenever she was preoccupied with thoughts of her Uncle Eron. The notion that the words from this complete stranger could have the same effect on Safi as one of Uncle Eron’s drunk debauckles made something in Iseult’s chest worry into a knot. 

When the last tankard was hung and the final table wiped clean, Iseult followed Safi and the happy jingle of keys that signaled it was time to go home. Bundled up in a dark wool coat and thick scarf, Iseult held open the door for Safi as Stix switched off the lights and filed after her. 

At some point during the night, it must have started to snow. A light dusting of white covered the sidewalk and the cars parked along the street, and lazy, slow-falling snowflakes floated down from the starless sky as the three of them stood outside the Cleaved Man. After tugging the door handle and making sure it was securely locked, Stix zipped up her leather jacket and happily wished Safi and Iseult goodnight, setting off downtown. Her night was apparently just getting started. 

The sound of Stix’s boots hitting pavement echoed in the distance and Safi and Iseult turned to face each other. For a moment they just stared at each other, both looking as tired as the other one felt. Everywhere else on their block had closed up for the evening, and after a night spent in the Cleaved Man where the noise never stopped, the street sounded unnaturally quiet. 

“Home?” Safi finally asked. It felt like forever since Iseult had heard her voice. Big, chunky snowflakes clung to her knitted beanie. 

Iseult nodded. “Home.”

As one, the girls turned, linked arms, and set off in the direction of their apartment, leaving a trail of footprints along the snow covered sidewalk. 

It wasn’t until Iseult was lying in bed that she realized she never did see Leopold again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This turned out much longer than I expected it to, so thank you for being patient! The response to this fic so far has been wonderful and I really appreciate the support I've received as I've never committed to something of this scale before. It's been so much fun living in this universe and coming up with new ideas for these characters that I love so much and just. Idk. Not harping on whether the writing is good or not (a much needed exercise for me!). It's also prompted me to read more contemporary romance which has been welcomed change, albeit a sad reminder of my lonely, loveless existence.
> 
> I hope you enjoy the banter and silliness this chapter provides! Aeduan will be making an appearance very, very soon...
> 
> All kudos, comments, likes, screaming, love are appreciated and CHERISHED. You can find me on tumblr @ eilonwiiy.tumblr.com <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iseult is confronted with an opportunity that threatens to change the course of her future.

“I hope you don’t mind me stealing you away.”

Evrane handed Iseult a cup of tea, the porcelain clinking delicately upon its saucer. A lazy swirl of steam rose into the air and Iseult gently blew across the top before taking a timid sip.

“Just what we need,” Evrane sighed, sinking into the high-back chair behind her desk as much as someone with her incomparable posture could. “Nothing like a hot cup of rose tea on a blustering winter morning.”

Iseult hummed in agreement, watching the fat chunks of snow falling outside the window behind Evrane. She had yet to regain feeling in her toes from the walk to work, but the tea and the quietly popping fire in the fireplace was helping.

Evrane’s office was an octagonal room that resided in the second tallest tower of the library. You had to climb a long, winding spiral staircase to get there and the first time Iseult had been invited to her office, she had never been more enchanted in her life. While the expected hints of modern technology littered Evrane’s desk area, the rest of the space was as gothic as the rest of the library, with a functioning fireplace, dark hardwood floors and paneling, and a high-domed ceiling. Bookshelves teeming with hundreds of leather-bound volumes lined the entire perimeter of the office, save for the three arched windows that stood behind the Evrane’s desk and framed her workspace in pale light.

Evrane took a sip from a cup before placing it on her desk. She sat so regal in her chair, yet completely at ease, her elbows resting on the arms and hands clasped together. She radiated assuredness. Purpose. Iseult shifted in her own, hoping to offer a reflection of sophistication to the woman sitting across from her. The leather squeaked awkwardly.

“Did you end up finding that first edition of The Raider King?” Iseult hurried to ask over the echo of that embarrassing sound in her ears, sure it would haunt her in her most unsuspecting moments for many years to come.

Evrane shook her head with a weary smile. “Not yet, but I haven’t lost hope. My attic is more of a time capsule than actual storage space. I haven’t touched some of the boxes up there since I moved from Nubrevna - and that was a significant number of years ago. It will turn up.” She smiled again at Iseult, the flames from the fire danced in her emerald green eyes. Iseult resisted the urge to squirm in her chair again and restored to taking a lengthy sip from her cup.

“So Iseult," began Evrane, a noticeable change in tone. Iseult latched onto it. “I have an idea I’d like to propose to you and I’m hoping you’ll find it as agreeable as I do."

Iseult’s cup froze on her saucer. “An idea?”

“An opportunity,” Evrane amended. “I’ve been quite pleased with how well you’ve taken to your job here, but if these past several months have taught me anything, it’s that you can do much more.”

Iseult blinked in surprise. A ripple of trepidation fluttered in her stomach, nearing something close to pride, but the crypticness of Evrane’s statement made it difficult for her to fully embrace the feeling. “Do… more?”

“Precisely. I’ve sincerely enjoyed our conversations, Iseult. Your repertoire is quite extensive for someone so young. Clearly, you can do more than shelve books. Though,” Evrane chuckled, “there is never a shortage of books to be put away.”

Iseult willed her face react, barely more than a tight-lipped smile. But the rest of her sat very still, hinging on Evrane’s every last word.

“As you know, Nadaya left us a couple weeks ago on maternity leave, and won’t be back until May. Though I've known of her departure for quite some time and despite the a stack of applications waiting to be read through, I find myself reluctant to do so. I was wondering - well, I was hoping - that you would be interested in taking up the mantle.”

“You want me to replace Nadaya?”

“It would only be temporary, of course. But with your knowledge of children’s literature and enthusiasm for YA, I can’t think of a more suitable person to fill the position.”

“I d-don’t have a library science degree.” I don’t have a degree, Iseult thought.

“That hardly matters,” Evrane dismissed, waving a hand, silver bracelet tinkling musically from the motion. She reached for her tea. “At least, while this is temporary. You know books, Iseult. That is what counts."

“But,” Iseult stammered. “Won’t the other librarians mind?"

Evrane’s eyebrows bounced mildly over her teacup. “Mind?”

“I mean, won’t they be bothered to have someone under-qualified hired?”

It was Evrane’s turn to look surprised. “I think they’ll be relieved to finally have someone picking up the slack in the Children’s Room.”

“The Children’s Room.” Iseult swallowed. Of course. That’s where Nadaya worked, so obviously, that would be where Iseult worked. “What would that entail?”

Though Iseult hadn’t accepted yet, Evrane perked up at the question and eagerly set her tea down. “If you’re worried about missing your cart, I promise you there will be plenty of shelving opportunities down in the Children’s Room.”

“Oh. Good,” Iseult replied, trying to keep her voice normal despite the confusing sense of panic welling in her chest. “I’d hate for it to develop abandonment issues.”

Evrane studied Iseult, her expression unreadable, but her gaze seemed to soften. “Really it will be very similar to what you do up here, except now you’ll also work the desk. You’ll check out patrons, check-in returned books, assist patrons when needed. You don’t have to contribute to any programming, except for potentially covering the occasional story time. Unless you’d like to, of course. It’s all very straightforward, Iseult. Nothing you can’t handle. Aside from learning the catalog software, I don’t foresee you having any trouble adjusting.”

Iseult nodded, but Evrane’s words slid off her like oil to water. She would be working with the public - and not just people. _Children_. That thought alone was enough to send her running.

But Evrane believed in her. She wanted her to take the job. She’d held off interviewing more qualified and worthy candidates for her. And instead of feeling flattered, Iseult couldn’t let go of the churning dread threatening to capsize her composure.

Evrane had said it would be temporary… then why did accepting her offer feel so monumental? Iseult wasn’t even supposed to be here. She was supposed to be at school. Studying, working towards - _something_. Accepting Evrane’s offer felt like taking another step away from that life. Her old life. Hell-gates, what was she even doing here? Sipping tea and eating biscuits? She was wasting time that could be spent working a third job, making money to send home to her mother, getting her life back on track. Getting herself back to where she was supposed to be. She needed to go. She needed to politely decline, rethink her priorities, and-

“Iseult?” prompted Evrane gently. “What do you think?”

* * *

The bell above the front-door to Mathew and Habim’s coffee shop jangled and a burst of warmth greeted Iseult as she stepped inside. Behind the wool scarf wrapped around her face, she sighed, relieved that the blistering cold and the 7 blocks standing between here and the library were behind her. She could already feel herself beginning to thaw.

Jitters was as it always was, looking more like an overgrown living room than a coffee shop. Mismatched furniture sprawled out over worn rugs of clashing patterns and on the walls hung tapestries and artwork with no real cohesion to them. A fire crackled in the brick hearth, where several customers were huddled around on a lumpy, velvet sofa and shabby armchairs. Nondescript instrumental music wafted from an ancient radio behind the counter - soft enough to not intrude on customers’ conversations, but loud enough to hug the shop in perpetual state of homeiness.

Iseult loved the dingey hole in the wall shop for all that it was, and even though it wasn’t hers, it felt like hers - hers and Safi’s. Since branching out and opening several more shops throughout the Witchlands, the owners Mathew and Habim now only popped in from time to time, and in the last few visits it had been obvious that they were more interested in seeing her and their goddaughter, not the shop. Their baby was in capable hands, they’d told them. It also helped that they now had an actual baby to take care of.

“You can’t hide from me, Iz. I’d know that pink nose anywhere.”

Safi stood behind the coffee counter wearing the mossy green apron all Mathew and Habim’s employees wore. Iseult pulled off her hat, hair slightly askew, and tugged down the scarf obscuring half of her face. “You found me.”

The smell of nutmeg and roasted coffee grains immediately filled Iseult’s nose. Wiping her boots on the doormat, she shuffled across the shop’s creaky floorboards and joined Safi behind the counter. She shrugged off her backpack and started the arduous process of unraveling herself.

“How was work?” Safi asked, extending an apron to Iseult and waiting patiently for her to finish unbuttoning.

“Apocalyptic,” replied Iseult, trading Safi and pulling the apron over her head.

“Really?” Safi walked around the corner and disappeared into the back office with Iseult’s coat and scarf draped over her arm. “Should I bother putting on another pot of coffee or is the end near enough that we can ditch these aprons and achieve our life’s ambition?”

Iseult tilted her head to the side. “Break into Mathew’s safe and find out the secret ingredient to his pumpkin cookies?”

Safi reappeared in the doorway with a scandalized look. “Raid Henrick’s office and burn it to the ground.”

“Ah right.” Iseult sighed glumly, pulling the apron tight around her waist and tying it off. “No, you should make the coffee. I suppose people will want it regardless of whether or not my life is going up in flames.”

Safi shot her a curious look as she took her advice and started bustling around the back counter. “That’s… dramatic. Can I help you put out the flames? Coffee isn’t flammable, you know.”

Iseult fiddled with the strings of her apron, untying them only to retie them again. On some level, she knew that she was being, as Safi put it, dramatic. The dread she’d left Evrane’s office with was unnecessary baggage. _Dead weight,_ her mother would have called it. Stasis had done nothing to discourage the rapid fire in her chest every time she thought of what tomorrow would bring. Nor had reciting her multiplication tables - a method Iseult had used as a child whenever she was on the verge of tears and Gretchya would scold her. She only resorted to her times tables in the most dire of situations. Graduating to division, if Gretchya was involved. But her anxiety only seemed to derive greater power from her desperate attempts to silence it. She should just keep it to herself. It’s what Gretchya would tell her to do.

“Evrane wants me to work in the Children’s Room.”

Safi’s eyebrows bounced in mild surprise. “So?”

Iseult shook her head. An impatient jerk. “So?” she repeated, incredulous. “So I’m terrible with children and should in no way be left alone with them. I don’t know the first thing about taking care of them.”

“Taking care of them?” Safi laughed. “You’re helping them find books, not saving up for their college tuition.”

“You know what I mean. I don’t know a thing about them.”

“You know what they read. I think that’ll come in handy, don’t you?”

Iseult took a deep breath and for a third time tugged her apron loose. There were times she relied on Safi’s quick wit. Like when aggressive men painted her with platitudes and unwanted attention. And then there were times she envied it.

Iseult often wondered what that would be like to laugh in the face of fear. To not only be able to shrug off life’s worries with a wink and a smile, but to pull up a chair and sit with it in comfortable silence. Her best friend had grown up with an alcoholic uncle, and though he hadn’t been cruel to her, Safi had weathered his debauchery, riding scandal after scandal with little help from anyone. She’d mastered the art of not giving a fuck, suffering much worse than Iseult ever had - so why couldn’t she?

Safi set down the bag of coffee grains and turned to face Iseult. “Do you want me to bail on my 4PM?” she offered. Concern laced her words. “The world may not be ending, but we could still do some damage.”

“If you’re going to give in to your urges to skip class this early into the semester, you’ll be graduating after me.”

“And yet here I am offering,” Safi countered, bracing her hands on the counter behind her and leaning back. “It won’t kill Polly to take notes for once.”

Iseult gave her a look. “Oh, so you two are talking again?”

“I don’t know.” Safi raised an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth twitching. “Are you?”

Right. Safi was still on that. The impromptu fireworks show her and the Nubrevnan had put on for everyone at the Cleaved Man may have been a spectacular performance, but it hadn’t been enough to make Safi forget about the drink Leopold had sent her. Iseult certainly hadn’t forgotten about it. It had been on her mind all weekend. She supposed she should give him a call. He was probably waiting to hear from her. A ‘thank you’, at the very least. And yet, three days had gone by, and Iseult had done nothing more than take out her phone a dozen or so times, open a new message, and then promptly tuck it back into her pocket.

Iseult turned to the clock mounted on the wall. “Oh, would you look at the time,” she deadpanned. “You’ll be late for class if you don’t get going.”

Safi blinked back at her unimpressed and gave the clock a disinterested glance. A split second later, she did a double take. Her eyes widened. “ _Weasel’s piss!_ ” she hissed, clawing at the apron strings tied behind her back. “You aren’t kidding!” She swept past Iseult and flew through the tapestry leading to the back.

Iseult listened to Safi’s hurried footsteps climbing up the narrow spiral set of stairs that led to their attic apartment and the muffled string of curses she left in her wake. There was the unmistakable _thud_ of the apartment door slamming shut, shortly followed by creaking floorboards and frantic shuffled footsteps overhead that, if Iseult hadn’t known better, sounded like they belonged to a small herd of elephants. A couple customers seated nearby perked up from their coffee and eyed the ceiling warily. Iseult smiled apologetically and quickly ducked down behind the counter to pick up Safi’s discarded apron.

The bell above the front door rang, announcing a customer had entered - or perhaps leaving because of Safi’s stampede. Iseult pushed up from the ground, knees cracking, apron clutched in her hand, and she was about to offer the usual “What can I get for you today?” when she saw who was at the counter and froze. “Ryber?”

One of the two girls standing in front of Iseult broke off the conversation she’d been having with her companion to look at her. Upon seeing her, the girl’s eyes sparked with recognition.

“Iseult!” she gasped happily. “I didn’t know you worked here!”

Iseult nodded, taking in Ryber’s broad smile and releasing a relieved breath. For a painstaking moment, she’d wondered if her former chemistry lab partner from last year would recognize her.

“I work and live here.” Iseult gestured to the ceiling. “My best friend and I live in the apartment above this place.”

Both Ryber and her companion’s eyes widened in fascination. “That’s so cool!” Ryber exclaimed. She swept a hand to the pastry display to Iseult’s right. “Cookies whenever you want! Never going without coffee on those nights when you’re up late cramming!”

“It has its perks,” Iseult agreed, ignoring Ryber’s assumption that she still had a reason to be up late studying.

“I wish we had a place of our own,” Ryber continued. “Tanzi and I still live in the dorms. We - oh, sorry Tanz!” She turned to her friend who had been hovering on the edge of their conversation in polite silence. She gave her an apologetic look. “Tanzi, this Iseult det Midenzi. We were lab partners last year. We almost didn’t make it out alive. And Iseult, this is my friend Tanzi Laminaya.”

“ _Best_ friend,” Tanzi corrected, poking Ryber in the ribs. Ryber nodded sagely, despite waving her off.

“Yes, best friend. My sincerest apologies.” Ryber shook her head and grinned at Iseult. “We’re living in Paladin’s Hall this year.”

“Nice,” Iseult said. “I’ve heard that’s the best dorm.”

“And the spookiest!” Tanzi chimed in.

Ryber moaned. “Don’t start with this.”

“It’s ok. I’ve heard the stories too,” Iseult intervened, giving Tanzi a friendly smile, who beamed smugly and tried to catch Ryber’s eye. Ryber ignored her. “The library that I work at is supposedly haunted too.”

“Our library is haunted too?” Tanzi all but squealed.

Iseult’s stomach twisted. Navigating these conversations was never not tiring. “No, not the school library. The Venaza City Public Library.”

Both Ryber and Tanzi nodded in understanding. “Wow, you make coffee, work at the library, and you go to school,” Ryber listed off, looking across the counter at Iseult like she were some sort of deity. “I have a hard enough time juggling two majors - nevermind two jobs.”

“Well,” Iseult began, but just at that moment, the sound of a baby elephant tumbling down the stairs came rumbling from behind the hanging tapestry and Safi stumbled out into the shop. Her knitted beanie slipped haphazardly from her head as she righted herself and stepped behind the counter.

“Safi,” Iseult breathed. The relief in her voice was painfully noticeable, but she was too happy to be saved from explaining to Ryber that she had dropped out of school to care. She swung her arm out and redirected Safi, who had no doubtedly been en route to grab a frosted donut and a cup of coffee. Safi gave her a bemused look as her hand pushed into her back, but went with it with nonetheless.

“Safi,” Iseult said again, introducing her, “This is Ryber and Tanzi. Ryber and I were lab partners last year in chem.”

Safi perked up. “Oh! The Bunsen burner malfunction of ‘19! I’m glad to see you still have all your hair.”

“Thanks,” Ryber laughed, fingering her long threaded braids. “I’d probably be bald if it weren’t for Iseult. And trying to resuscitate my GPA.” She shrugged sheepishly. “Science isn’t really my thing.”

Safi waved her off. “Leave the sciencing to the scientists. That’s what I always say.” It was dumb, but Ryber and Tanzi both laughed. “You two look like you’re heading back to campus,” Safi said, taking in their backpacks and the layer of snow covering them both. “Do you need a ride?”

“Seriously?” Ryber asked. Her and Tanzi exchanged hopeful looks. Their dark skin was raw with cold.

“Of course. Though, my Lebaron is older than I am, so there’s a 60/40 chance we may not make it.

“I’ll take that chance!” Tanzi said with gusto, looking to Ryber for confirmation, who nodded without reserve.

“Me too!”

“As long as you know what you’re getting into. But first I need coffee. And sugar. And maybe something salty. You guys want anything?”

Ryber craned her neck around Tanzi and examined the pastry display case. “Can we get three hot chocolates, a lemon poppyseed muffin, and two chocolate croissants?”

“And a fudge brownie?” Tanzi added.

“A wise choice,” Safi commented. “I’ll get working on those hot chocolates. Iseult, can you take care of the pastries?” Before turning around, Safi shot Iseult a sideways grin. Iseult felt her insides melt in appreciation.

Iseult reached for a paper bag and sidestepped over to the pastry display case. Ryber followed her along the opposite side.

“You said you work at the Venaza City Public Library, right?”

“Uh-huh.” Iseult said, reaching for the biggest fudge brownie on the platter.

“Sooo,” Ryber drew out. “I know you’re not working right now. Well, you’re working - here, not there - but I was wondering if I could ask you a favor.”

Iseult stood up straight and met Ryber’s hopeful expression over the glass case. “Uh, sure. If I can help, I’ll try.”

“I’m looking for a book for my book club and I need to get a hold of multiple copies so everyone can read it. Otherwise, we’ll all have to share and instead of meeting every month, we’ll be meeting every ten years. The school library won’t let me put in a request for that many of the same book-”

“Can you believe that?” Tanzi interjected disapprovingly.

“-and I was wondering if I could put in a request at your library. Do they do that?”

For the second time since Ryber had walked in, Iseult felt relieved. Ryber was asking her something completely unrelated to school - and she could actually help her.

“Of course,” she answered. “We do that all the time. If you give me the titles, I can put in the request tomorrow when I’m at work. It usually takes about a week for the books to come in, depending on where they’re coming from.”

Ryber and Tanzi exchanged grateful looks. “Bless you!” Ryber praised her as she unzipped her bag, pulled out a notebook, and ripped out a piece of paper. “It’s just one book,” she said scribbling the title down. “But if I think of anything else, I know where to find you.”

“Great,” Iseult said as she traded Ryber for the scrap piece of paper and handed her the bag of pastries. She folded it into a neat square and tucked it into her pocket. “I’ll make sure to do it first thing tomorrow. When you come to pick them up, I can get you set up with your own library card.”

“Thanks, really,” Ryber said. “You know, if you’re interested you should join us. We try to meet every month, but it usually turns into every other month given everyone’s schedules. You know, it being junior year and all.”

“Right.” Iseult nodded uneasy. Ryber breezed on.

“Our dorm room is obviously too small for a group of people, let alone just us two, so we gather off-campus at my boyfriend’s place.”

“Boyfriend, huh?” Safi appeared holding a cardboard tray stacked with three hot chocolates. Whipped cream peeked out of the sippy hole of each lid. “I wonder what that’s like.”

“It’s not as glamorous as it sounds,” Ryber assured her.

“Oh stop being modest,” Tanzi sniped, poking Ryber in the ribs again. This must have been a thing she did regularly because Ryber barely flinched. “They’re crazy about each other.”

“ _Tanzi_ ,” warned Ryber, but her friend ignored her.

“They’ve been inseparable ever since they met at Freshmen orientation. Well, all the times when she’s not with me, they are.”

“That’s your right as her best friend,” said Safi seriously. “I assume that’s who the third hot chocolate is for?”

“Of course,” Tanzi confirmed proudly, as though this were her boyfriend she was bragging about. It had to be a testament of how much she approved of him. Iseult could only wish the same on her and Safi when the time came and Safi brought a boy home. Iseult couldn’t fathom a universe where the roles would be reversed. “We’re off to wait outside his class and surprise him with sweets. Ryber likes to carry his books for him. He does the same for her all the time. No matter what, if he doesn’t have class, he’s there waiting for her.”

“ _Tanzi!_ ” Pink dusted Ryber’s cheeks, embarrassed, but Iseult couldn’t miss the pleased smile she was fighting to hold back. Tanzi shook her head.

“Last year he waited two hours outside Noden’s Hall during a blizzard waiting for her philosophy class to get out, only to find out that the class had been cancelled because of the weather.”

Safi ‘aw’d and gazed wistfully at Ryber. Iseult couldn’t help but notice the way her eyes brightened. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen this shade of blue. It notably made appearances while they watched Pride and Prejudice like it was the first time and not the hundreth. For all her slandering of Caden and the race of men, the softness in her expression confirmed what Iseult already knew, but Safi would never admit to: she was a romantic at heart.

“He’s perfect in every way,” Tanzi boasted. “Well, except for one notable exception.”

And just like that, Safi’s harlequin moment evaporated. She leaned in greedily. “Oh what?”

“His best friend.”

Ryber whacked Tanzi’s arm, but Safi gasped, a little too gleeful in Iseult’s opinion. “Is he awful?”

“No,” Ryber said firmly at the same time as Tanzi groaned, “The worst.”

Safi shook her head and turned to Iseult. “That’s a pretty high offense, wouldn’t you say?”

Iseult nodded. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like if her boyfriend didn’t like Safi. Not that she was in any position to have a boyfriend, of course. But in a theoretical scenario, what would she do? Could she really love someone who didn’t love her best friend as much as she did? Assuming that she was capable of falling in love with someone in the first place, could she do that? Or what if Safi didn’t like her boyfriend? Would she break up with him? Even if she loved him?

Iseult bit the inside of her cheek. Apparently there would be no stasis today. Here she was working herself up over a fictional boyfriend in a fictional scenario that would never happen. She’d never even been kissed before. The man of her dreams wasn’t about to materialize out of thin air. She wasn’t even sure what he would look like...

“He’s not awful. He’s just…” Ryber trailed off, grasped for the right word. “ _Intense_.”

Safi gave her a doubtful look. “So, he’s awful.”

Ryber burst with an exasperated laugh. “No, no, he’s a good guy. Really. He just has a lot to deal with. He has issues with his dad-”

“Daddy issues,” Safi mused in a mock tone. “Who doesn’t love that?”

“And he has a bad relationship with his sister-”

“Women troubles. Even better.”

“He pours his heart and soul into helping people, without ever asking for anything in return, even if he is a little intense about it. And, well... Kullen wouldn’t be friends with him if he wasn’t a good person. Because _Kullen_ is a _good_ person - the best, if you want my opinion. So, I trust his judgment.”

Ryber fell silent and her mouth quirked to the side, suddenly looking shy. She possibly hadn’t meant to be so honest to a complete stranger. To break the moment, she fumbled with her backpack and dug out her wallet. “How much do we owe you?”

Safi put up a hand and shook her head. “It’s on the house.”

Ryber broke out into a smile, eyes bright and free of embarrassment. Safi handed her the tray of drinks and hefted her backpack onto her shoulders. She turned to Iseult. “See you when I get home?”

“Always.”

Safi nodded. Something had crossed over her during Ryber’s speech, but Iseult wasn’t sure what. It wasn’t the same bright-eyed, fanciful look from before, but it was... something. Iseult knew that much. She wanted to ask Safi what she was thinking, but before she could ask further, Safi was following Tanzi and Ryber to the front door. As they exited, they waved goodbye to Iseult.

“Think about book club!” Ryber called over her shoulder.

Iseult nodded her promise that she would, sensing, as the door jingled shut, that Ryber had given her more to think about than she knew.

* * *

The next day found Iseult sitting alone at the desk in the Children’s Room waiting in tortured silence for her first patron to walk in.

The morning had started well enough. Hilga, the head librarian in the Children’s Department, had given her a tour of the room, as well as an overview of the software they used to catalog and circulate books. If Hilga disapproved of Evrane’s appointment of Iseult, she didn’t show it. On the contrary, she seemed ready to sob with relief when she tentatively asked Iseult if she would be able to manage without her for a bit if she spent some time in the back office to catch up on her book ordering. When Iseult said yes, she bustled around, thanking her profusely and set a tin of cookies by her computer, insisting that she help herself, before hurrying off.

There was only so much Iseult could do so early in the morning and with no one to assist, even less. She familiarized herself with the area behind the desk. Where to find library cards, important forms, museum passes, the stash of good pens. She tried her hand at the computer and managed to successfully put in the request for Ryber’s books as promised without bothering Hilga for help. And after taking a slower, more thorough tour through the room’s collection of books, she officially had nothing to busy herself with.

An hour later and not even the rumored ghost had made an appearance.

Iseult knew from her visits with the book cart that mornings were typically quiet if there wasn’t a program, and blessedly, there wasn’t. But that didn’t stop her from imagining the hundred or so catastrophes bound to disrupt her morning. She sat very still in her desk chair, hands clasped in her lap, listening intently to the silence, occasionally hearing Hilga’s unintelligible muttering from her office. A latte stood by the open tin of cookies, both untouched. Her insides were too wound up to eat or drink anything. Iseult didn’t need coffee; she needed Safi.

Moving for the first time in an hour, Iseult looked helplessly around the empty room and pulled her phone out of her skirt pocket. She cradled it in her lap, keeping it hidden behind the desk and began typing furiously. Safi’s second wave of morning commuters at the shop was probably settling by now, if she could just reach her-

Iseult’s fingers froze on her phone screen. A soft rustle of paper fluttered from somewhere in the room.

Heart stuttering, slowly, Iseult lifted her head. A flash of blue caught her eye from across the room.

It was the man with the opal earring.

And he was alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for your patience waiting for this chapter! October is a particularly difficult month for me on a personal level, but I also had a lot of stuff happening at my very own library where I work. As someone who works in a Children's Room, I can safely say that Iseult will certainly have her work cut out for her. At least she'll a broody distraction along the way... ;) 
> 
> Comments/feedback/incoherent screaming always welcome. Feel free to follow me on tumblr @ eilonwiiy.tumblr.com and come talk to me about The Witchlands, Bookends, and anything else your heart desires.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aeduan returns to a place from his childhood and takes a big step that could shape his future with Owl.

The room smelled just as it had 13 years ago.

Aeduan was surprised to see how little had changed. He spent much of his childhood in this room. Hiding between bookshelves and pouring over books when he should have been out playing with children his age. The shelves were exactly where he had left them. The carpet was the same faded shade of gray and blue, worn down from years of foot traffic, and probably in even more desperate need of cleaning than it had back then. Even the quiet, that had once set his heart at ease, felt familiar. 

The only thing out of place was him. 

Or perhaps not the only thing.

Upon entering, Aeduan’s gaze instantly landed on the girl behind the children’s desk. It was impossible not to. She was a black cloud in a world of color.

And she was staring at him. 

Aeduan paused midstep when his eyes met hers. From this far away, it was hard to read her expression, but her body noticeably froze like a deer caught in the headlights. He could have sworn he saw recognition flash across her pale face. It confused him, but the moment didn’t last long. She almost immediately turned away, drawing her attention to the computer screen in front of her and began typing, as though he did not exist.

Aeduan didn’t contemplate it. He didn’t particularly want to inflict himself with inane chit chat that would come with acknowledging the librarian anyway. Maybe she was concerned having a grown man alone, without a child in tow, in the Children’s Room. Or perhaps she was scared to _be_ alone with him. She could think whatever she wanted, he thought as he turned down one of the aisles, vaguely perusing the titles along the book spines. He wouldn’t be alone for long.

Aeduan’s eyes instinctively went to the place on the wall where he’d known the clock to be years ago and found it still there. If the clock was as untouched in the last 13 years as the rest of the room appeared to be, he guessed that it was still 4 minutes fast. Either way, Owl would soon be done with his old mentor and then he could take her home and get them out of here. He could stand 10 more minutes of uncomfortable silence with the gloomy librarian. He was a former cop; he’d faced worse. 

Aeduan wandered the aisles for a few more minutes, half-heartedly examining the shelves. The steady tap of the librarian’s fingers along her keyboard punctured the silence. It was non-stop. And hurried. It grated Aeduan’s nerves for reasons he could not pinpoint. He hesitated by the play area - then, spared a glance over to where the sound was coming from and found the girl staring at her desktop, face devoid of anything. And yet, Aeduan could feel the intense concentration radiate off her, that crackled in the air with the frenetic movement of her fingers. Aeduan glowered. Either she was writing the world’s longest email or she was trying very hard to ignore him. 

A collection of footsteps interrupted his speculating and drew his attention to the entrance of the room. Evrane appeared, today donning forest green and her silver hair pulled back as usual. Her face brightened in acknowledgement when she spotted Aeduan and she made her way towards him. Although he couldn’t see her, he could hear the tell-tale march of obstinate little feet and knew Owl must be there too. For some reason, he checked to see if the librarian was watching with this new arrival, but she was still focused hard on her screen, typing undiscouraged. 

When they reached him, Owl stomped past Evrane, past Aeduan, and in a display of dramatics that can only be summoned by that of a 4-year-old, fell face first onto the largest bean bag chair with a mighty _fwoof_.

Aeduan stared at the lump, then turned to Evrane. Her face was infuriatingly serene.

“Let’s talk,” she merely said, all business, and she gestured to a small tabled sitting area closest to them.

Dread pushed against his chest, but Aeduan followed. He contemplated the miniature chair for a moment, then pulled it out and lowered himself awkwardly into it, his long limbs not sure what to do with themselves. A quick glance at Evrane and he saw that she appeared perfectly at home in her own child-sized chair, legs crossed at the ankles and swept off to the side. There was no way he would be able to fit his legs under the low-sitting table, but extending his legs to their full length in front of him seemed absurd. So with a grunt, he scooted his chair back from the table and planted his feet firmly on the ground, legs bent sharply in opposing directions. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands together. 

Evrane gave him a soothing smile that he knew well enough to know was meant to placate him. The dread grew heavier.

“Owl is a very special girl.”

Aeduan drew back and crossed his arms over his chest, decidedly uninterested in whatever other vague assessments Evrane had to offer. The withdrawal was not unnoticed by Evrane.

“She spoke very little, but her silence tells a vivid story.”

“Does it?” Aeduan deadpanned, devoid of any actual curiosity. 

“It does,” Evrane replied calmly. “I suspect you would not have taken her in if you had not heard it too.”

Aeduan’s jaw ticked. Evrane went on.

“There is trauma, I doubt I need to tell you that. And without any knowledge of her past, we can only rely on her for understanding. It will take time. Patience. But if we take care to listen, if we give her room to heal-”

“And schooling?” Aeduan cut in. 

Evrane offered a patient smile. More placating. “Children will grow at their own pace if you allow them to. You need not worry yourself over her lack of speech. It will come with time.” 

Aeduan inhaled deeply, nostrils burning with frustration and anxiety rattling his lungs despite the assurance. How was he supposed to not worry? Talking wasn’t the problem. Owl could talk. Small words and simple sentences, but still - she could talk. No, it was _who_ she talked to that was the issue. Ever since the night he found her, Aeduan was the only person Owl would speak to. That was beyond concerning - it was confusing. Illogical, in a way that shook Aeduan to his core. 

Domestic violence calls were not unheard of in Dalmotti - though, not so frequent in a city as well-off as Venaza. What was unusual was to respond to an anonymous call, only to find the location deserted, and in place of a quarreling couple, walk in on a deserted child huddled in a closet. 

Aeduan had been the first one to find her. The first one to reach out his hand to her and feel her tiny little fingers wrap around his own. She never said a word, just stared at him with those big brown eyes of hers, unquestioning when he brought her into his arms. He’d felt the soft pitter-patter of her heart then through his uniform, steady and unafraid against his chest, and he carried her through the chaos of his squad swarming into the apartment and out into the night. Through it all she he never took her eyes off him. She never made a sound. 

Until she did. 

She had cried, _screamed_ , a horrible anguished sound, when he gently forced themselves apart and handed her off to a female officer at the station. Time had seemed to have caught up to her in that singular moment, the experience of the night rushing out of her in a torrent of agony. Her wails echoed through the halls of the precinct and long after she and the officer disappeared into one of the rooms.

And that was that. His job was done. It was up to Child Services now. He’d write up his report and move on to the next assignment. 

But for some reason, he couldn’t. 

“You’ve taken on quite a lot in these last few months, Aeduan,” Evrane said softly as though reading his mind. “It is normal to feel out of your depth. This is uncharted territory for you.” She huffed a laugh. “I admit, I was surprised when you told me the news. More surprised than I was to actually be hearing from you.” She paused, perhaps giving him a chance to defend himself. He didn’t. 

“Do you have any thoughts as to where her parents are?” 

Aeduan glanced over his shoulder to check if Owl was listening. She hadn’t moved. He shook his head. 

“Dead, probably. Or they abandoned her, in which case they’re as good as dead. Either way they’re out of the picture.” 

Evrane nodded silently. “You should know,” she said, taking on a more serious tone, “that adoption is a complicated business. The child may not end up in your care - despite your best efforts. Ragnor’s standing in the community can only get you so far. ”

Aeduan chewed this over, and though it caused his chest to tighten, he eventually admitted, “Then I will know it was not meant to be.”

Evrane arched one of her perfectly sculpted eyebrows, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “My, how things have changed if you are suddenly a believer of fate.”

She was teasing him, something she had often done when he was a child. But something about they way she looked at him as she said it made it feel like a jab.

“Will Owl see it that way?” she pushed further.

“She will have to,” he stated plainly, as if it were that simple. He stared hard at a spot on a shelf opposite him. “She will… get over it. She is strong. I have faith.”

“A man of fate _and_ faith. Interesting, interesting...” Out of the corner of his eye, Aeduan could see Evrane shaking her head, evaluating Aeduan like she’d never seen him clearly before. Still, he sensed she was wielding something much more sinister against him. He jerked his head to address her dead on.

“Not interesting. Just the truth. We can’t control everything that happens in our lives. I learned that the hard way and I got over it. So will Owl.”

This declaration did nothing to ruffle Evrane, though it did manage to wipe the playfulness from her eyes. She regarded Aeduan carefully. The words that came next made him wish she’d stuck with her teasing. “Perhaps you have as much to learn from Owl as she has to learn from you.

“There is nothing I can teach her that she can’t learn elsewhere.”

“Then why take her in?” Evrane asked sharply, her tone suddenly hard. “Why abandon everything - your job, your father, your life - for this child? Why come to me, begging for help-”

“I did not beg,” Aeduan snarled low. 

“No, you did not. But you think as much.” Evrane’s eyes darkened. “You waste precious time stumbling over your own pride. First, recklessly leaving the force, your stability, your _dream_. Then, trying to get this child into a preschool program, even when it was apparent no one would take her, and more importantly, that that environment was not suited for her. Wasting all this time on anyone who would hear you out when you should have come straight to me.” 

Aeduan’s nostrils flared. “So you’re hurt that I didn’t come running to you? As I would have when I was a boy?”

“Not hurt. Only sad. Sad that after all this time, you’re still running away when nothing is chasing you.”

Despite sitting proud, Evrane’s entire being seemed to deflate. There was no malice in her words, and that alone gave Aeduan pause. He swallowed hard, silently seething. Anger mounted against his chest, demanding release... but he couldn’t bring himself to unleash it. Not like this. 

Evrane sniffed and blinked the sentiment away. “Perhaps I failed you, Aeduan,” she said, a stab of bitterness piercing through the regret in those words. “In which case, you may have been right not to seek my help.”

Aeduan stared at her as she gracefully stood from her chair and smoothed out her immaculate skirt. She looked down at him, and he was suddenly transported to his boyhood. Alone and scared. Lost to a father lost in grief. Lost to mother who was lost for good...

Then Evrane came along. 

Aeduan’s voice scraped against his throat when he spoke. 

“So that’s it? You… you will not help her?” _Help me?_

Evrane remained quiet for a moment. Distantly, Aeduan registered that the typing behind him had stopped. 

“That is not what I said,” she finally said. 

There was nothing he could do to stop it: relief washed over Aeduan. He pushed up from his chair, and in his haste, knocked into the table, bumping it noisily across the floor several inches. Evrane’s lips twitched, but Aeduan did not care. He quickened to set the table back in place and stepped around it so that he was standing in front of Evrane. She needed to raise her chin to peer up at him. 

“So,” Aeduan stated. He needed to make this official. “You will help her?” 

“Is that what you want?” she countered lightly, as though she had not made up her mind yet.

 _Impossible woman._ She was going to be the death of him. “I would not be here if I didn’t.”

“Hm,” Evrane only hummed, glancing away. When she looked back, her eyes were carved in a new light, one that did not bring warmth, but sought to cut through darkness. “When was the last time you spoke to your father?”

Aeduan tensed, surprised by the abrupt change in topic. “Since I left the force.” He wasn’t going to elaborate more than that. 

“And your sisters?”

There was unmistakable accusation in her tone. Aeduan’s eyes turned to slits. “Last week. I pick them up from school on most Fridays.” 

Evrane nodded, though continued regarding him with a measured look. “Well,” she said stiffly, “I’m glad to hear you have not forsaken everything.”

Aeduan’s stomach roiled. _That_ was too far. As if he would ever let Ragnor get in between him and Cora and Lisbet. “Evrane-”

“I will not be able to see Owl every day,” Evrane cut in over what was sure to be something he would have regretted saying later on. He should have been grateful, but he only glared at her. “Though, I think that will be for the better. Silence can be just as draining as talking, as you are no doubt well acquainted with, and it will take time for her to learn to trust me. I will call you with the details once I’ve looked over my schedule.” 

Aeduan swallowed everything he would have liked to say, cursing the Moon Mother, and managed a curt nod. Evrane peered around him.

“Goodbye, Owl,” she called gently, so different from the tone she’d only used seconds ago. “Thank you for spending the morning with me. I hope we can do it again sometime.” 

The lump didn’t respond. However, Evrane nodded as though she had. As she turned to leave, her emerald eyes skated over Aeduan, and without offering any parting words, stalked away. He watched her go, the earlier relief that had filled him dwindling fast under his irritation. He supposed he would not be the only one parsing exchanged silences in the upcoming weeks.

Pushing that foreboding thought aside, Aeduan turned back to Owl and took a couple steps until he was hovering over her. He knelt down, the leather of his jacket creaking with the motion, and rested a hand on her back.

“Owl?”

At his touch, Owl squirmed around to face him, the foam beads of the bean bag crunching underneath her. Her face was red, either from being face down in the pillow for so long or because of pent up agitation. Probably both, if Aeduan had to guess

Her big teardrop eyes blinked up at him, and if it weren’t for the tousled hair and flushed chubby cheeks, he’d say she looked comfortable. He faintly made a mental note to get her one for his apartment. _Their_ apartment. 

“Home,” she murmured.

Aeduan nodded. “Yes.” He looked around the room. “Would you like to pick out a book to take home?”

Without moving, Owl’s eyes slowly rolled over the room, taking in her surroundings. They stopped on point beyond Aeduan, her pupils widening slightly. Without a word, she rolled off the bean bag, crawled onto her feet, shuffled over to a nearby display, and grabbed one of the books. She turned to Aeduan and held it up for him to see.

Aeduan’s brow pinched at the big black cat staring at him from the cover with bright yellow eyes. “That is for Halloween.”

Owl held the book a little higher as though he was not seeing it properly.

“Wouldn’t you like to read about something else?” he tried again.

Owl ignored him and tapped an insistent chubby finger on the cat. “Blueberry.”

Aeduan sighed. If he had known his apartment had come with a relentless stray cat, he would have said, ‘To hell with the free utilities!’ and torn up the lease. 

The furry nuisance had turned up at their door the day after they moved in, scouting out the area, spying on who or what had invaded the once unoccupied apartment. At first Aeduan had shooed him away, settling on the couch that overlooked the outside in their new sparsely furnished living room and explaining to Owl the importance of keeping one’s distance from wild animals, how they could scratch or bite you or give you harmful diseases. Owl had watched with rapt attention as Adeuan pointed out the cat’s long tail and described the different things it could tell you by how it was moving. When she asked what it was saying right now, he’d traced the high held appendage in the air with his finger.

“Happy. He feels safe here,” he’d said.

Owl considered this a moment, nose scrunching a little as her eyes followed the trail of paw prints the cat left in the snow. Then, she turned to face Aeduan, cheek pressed into the cushion and declared, “I feel that way too,” then, slid off the couch and scampered off to the kitchen for “cat food”. 

Since then, Blueberry, as the girl had named him, would not be deterred. And neither would Owl. She had fallen in love with the demon, ignoring all of Aeduan’s warnings not to. 

“Are you sure this is what you want?” Aeduan decided to ask one more time, even though he knew it was pointless. “There are a lot of other books here to choose from.”

As predicted, Owl only repeated stubbornly, “Blueberry.”

Aeduan sighed again and took the book from the child. Satisfied, Owl marched back over to the bean bag chair and plopped herself down, her part in this task complete.

Now it was Aeduan’s turn.

He walked over the children’s desk to where the librarian in black sat. She was back to typing intently again. When he approached her, she stopped and finally acknowledged him. 

“Checking out?” she prompted, eyeing the book in his hand. Her voice was gentler than he was expecting. He nodded.

“I don’t have a library card.” 

“Would you like to get one now?”

Aeduan bit back a retort. Of course, he wanted one now. How else would he get the book? “Please.”

The girl wet her lips, and though her expression was obscenely blank, he could tell she was thinking. Next to her, she pulled open a drawer and retrieved a slip of paper, along with a blank library card. She set them down between them, carefully smoothing out the paper with her hands. As she did so, Aeduan noticed her eyes darting across the form, as though she were reading it for the first time.

 _New_. She must be new here. Seeing her up close, Aeduan saw she didn’t even have a name tag.

His earlier frustration dulled somewhat, and schooling his features in what he hoped was a patient expression, he watched her prepare the form. When warm hazel eyes looked up at him from behind her windswept black fringe, he did not look away.

“Do you have an I.D.?” she asked.

Something about the question was hesitant. Almost apologetic. It was such a strange thing, and even stranger when he felt reluctance to share his personal information with her. It was like she _knew_. Yet, he freed his wallet from his back pocket all the same. Opening it, he flipped past the school photos of Cora and Lisbet, slid his driver’s license out of one of the thin pockets, and handed it to the girl without comment.

She brought the card close to her face, reading it with the same intensity she had when she’d been working on the computer. A small line formed between her eyebrows, and as the seconds passed, apprehension crept up on Aeduan. New or not, she was taking more time reading over his personal information than was comfortable. Either she was being unapologetically nosy or worse, something was wrong.

“Is this your current address?” she finally asked, still staring at the card.

“No,” Aeduan answered honestly, instantly regretting it. 

“Oh,” she said softly. The word rustled across his senses, a wisp of sound. The girl swallowed, but with a steady hand, held his driver’s license out to him

“I’m sorry, but I need something with your current permanent address on it. Like a bill or a lease. Or I can send you a postcard and when it’s delivered to you, you can bring it in as proof of residence.”

Aeduan stared at her. None of these options were to his liking, especially since all of them led to the same sorry outcome: Owl would not be getting her book today.

There was no hiding his vexation now, and in that moment, Aeduan didn’t care. And neither did the girl it seemed. Nothing registered across her face. She was seemingly unaware of his agitation. Even when he swiped his license out of her outstretched hand more aggressive than was necessary she did not flinch. Her face remained smooth as ever, a bright moon cradled by midnight hair.

It was... unsettling. And yet, familiar somehow.

He tore away from her before he could think on it further. But as he gathering Owl into his arms, her voice stopped him.

“Did you want that postcard?"

Aeduan paused. Then, without turning to face her, he grunted, “I’ll be back.”

“Alright,” he heard her murmur softly into nothing. The absence of her voice made the room suddenly sound much more quiet than it had before - and that’s when it truly hit him. 

He _would_ be coming back. 

He had accepted Evrane’s help. This was real. This was happening. 

Aeduan hefted Owl up in his arm, as he knelt down to retrieve her winter coat, the Halloween book tucked under his other. When he returned it to its display, Owl squirmed against his chest, reaching for it.

“We’ll read this another day,” he told her. 

“Blueberry,” she protested, fingers fruitlessly grabbing at air as he walked them away.

“Another day,” he all but murmured into her hair, and when the tears he expected to come never came, he was grateful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After much debate, I did decide to include multiple POV's, and though writing for Aeduan makes me incredibly nervous, I think I made the right choice in the end. As with Susan Dennard's original portrayal of Aeduan, there is a lot of mystery surrounding him here. You'll learn alongside Iseult more about his past as the story goes on. Playing with his interactions with Owl was immensely enjoyable (I could seriously just write a fic about their day to day life. #domesticity) and writing Evrane calling out Aedaun (or anyone for that matter) gives me great pleasure. I'm looking forward to finally getting down to business with Aeduan and Iseult. 
> 
> I cannot say this enough, but again: thank you for you comments and support. This fandom is such a breath of fresh air from the many divisive fandom spaces out there and I am grateful to be a part of it. I do hope you enjoy my take on Aeduan. Please don't be shy to tell me what you think of this chapter. Or ask questions! I have a lot of headcanons for the Bookends universe because my daydreaming knows no bounds.
> 
> Follow me at eilonwiiy.tumblr.com


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iseult is distracted from her encounter with Aeduan by a distressing phone call from home. Meanwhile, Owl leads Aeduan to the best coffee in Veñaza City. The only problem is the girl behind the counter doesn’t like him very much.

_Aeduan._

Iseult rolled the name over in her mind. When she’d heard someone approaching the Children’s Room, she never expected it to be him. She’d nearly forgotten about the bizarre interaction she’d seen him have with Evrane. Now, after seeing him up close, he was about the last person she ever would have imagined running into in the Children’s Room.

He was young. Couldn’t be more than a few years older than her. He kept his dark hair cut short and well-groomed. Skin almost as pale as hers outlined the hard angles of his face, clean-shaven and cutting a striking look. Despite his casual choice of wardrobe, he looked immaculate in dark fitted jeans, lace strapped books, and a worn burgundy leather jacket over a grey t-shirt haphazardly tucked into his jeans. It was only when he’d approached her desk was she able to fully appreciate the blue of his eyes. Where Safi’s were plundered from the depths of the sea, Aeduan’s were cut from ice. Yet, Iseult felt none of the chill.

And of course, there in his left ear was the peculiar opal earring. Iseult would hardly forget it.

Nor could she forget the look in the child’s eyes as he carried her out of the room. She’d never seen anything like it. Not from a child. They burned with a loathing uncharacteristic for a girl her age. There was something... very unsettling about her.

Owl, that’s what Aeduan had called her. Another strange name. Maybe it ran in the family. If they were family, that is. They certainly seemed close. And who could she possibly be if she wasn’t his daughter? He was so young. Maybe she was his sister?

Iseult hadn’t actually overheard much from his conversation with Evrane. She was curious, but eavesdropping on a stranger was one thing. Eavesdropping on Evrane was another. Safi would have egged her on, just as she had the other day. But Evrane’s business was Evrane’s business and Iseult would never want to intrude. Instead, she’d distracted herself with trying to translate the storm of emotions she was feeling in a word document. She felt a little pathetic for it, but if she wasn’t able to talk to Safi, she’d have to settle for the responseless desktop.

Now that she was alone though…

Iseult looked down at the phone tucked away in her lap. She picked it up and saw there were several new notifications on the lock screen. Her heart stuttered at the name at the top.

 _Leopold_.

Shit. Shit, shit, _shit_. Iseult still hadn’t called him. Or texted him. Or done anything that would demonstrate that she had some basic awareness of his existence.

Iseult swiped open the message and braced for the worst.

It was a picture of a cat.

Iseult blinked at it. Her heart relaxed, but after bottling up all her uncertainty surrounding Leopold for a week, it was a very small consolation. All she felt was… sad.

Why had she been avoiding him for so long? It wasn’t fair to him, and more than that, it wasn’t like her to be so careless. What was wrong with her? If she truly believed the drink he’d ordered her meant nothing, then there was nothing to be anxious about...

Unless...

Licking her lips, she typed a short response.

_Iseult – 10:48 AM_   
_> > :)_   
_> > Sorry I’ve been MIA. I started working in the Children’s Room today…_

OK. It was done. Granted, it was a pretty uninspired attempt at an explanation, but she had at least taken the plunge - that alone was helping to alleviate her anxiety. It was out of her hands now.

She was just about to exit out of the conversation to check her other missed messages when she was interrupted by an almost immediate response from Leopold.

_Leopold – 10:49 AM_   
_> > It’s ok… for a second I thought you AND Safi were freezing me out. It’s cold enough out there - winter doesn’t need any help from you two. Not until I get my fur coat back from the dry cleaners, that is._   
_> > Really? How’s that going?_

For the first time all morning, Iseult smiled. His charm was infectious even in text. She hadn’t realized how much she missed him. And that ridiculous coat.

Still grinning, she swiped out of their message thread. She’d save that for her walk home. Something to look forward to.

The next message was a text from Ryber thanking her again for ordering the books she needed. After typing a quick reply, Iseult clicked the red exclamation point indicating a missed call.

It was from Alma.

Iseult’s smile instantly fell away. Everything inside her went quiet. She stared at the name for a long time.

If something had happened, if her mom was in trouble, Alma would have left a message. But even so…

Iseult swiveled out of her chair, walked over to Hilga’s office, and without a moment’s hesitation, knocked on the door. A gentle _“Come in”_ answered her and Iseult opened door and poked her head in.

“Sorry to bother you, Hilga, but I just noticed a missed call from my mom’s friend. Would you mind if I give her a quick call back? It’s probably nothing, but-”

Hilga smiled in understanding and Iseult wondered if Evrane had told her about her family situation. “Go, go. You’re overdue for your break anyway.”

“Thanks Hilga. It’ll only take a minute.”

Hilga waved her off, rising from her desk and bustling around it to meet Iseult at the door. “Take all the time you need. How’s everything been out here? Did I miss any fireworks?” she added with a hint of humor.

Iseult was already halfway across the room, one arm in her coat sleeve, when the little black cat on the cover of the picture book Aeduan wanted to check out caught Iseult’s eye. Even though she was in a hurry to call Alma, she paused at its shelf and picked it up.

“No,” she said, shaking her head absently. “You haven’t missed anything at all.”

* * *

Despite Owl in his arms, Aeduan was feeling lighter and lighter with every step he took. He was glad to be away from the library, though the distance was giving him the space to fully go over his conversation with Evrane.

His apartment wasn’t particularly close to the library, but he found that he needed the walk and was glad that he decided not to take the car. Like Owl, the car - a used Honda civic - was a new addition to his life. He couldn’t exactly attach a basket to his motorcycle and expect Owl to sit in it whenever they needed to go somewhere. And since he didn’t have his squad car anymore, well… it was an adjustment.

Yes, that’s what he’d call with agreement with Evrane, Aeduan thought to himself, kicking a chunk of snow on the sidewalk out of his path. Another adjustment. He’d handled every new thing that had come his way so far. He could handle this.

Of course, a car never fought back. Evrane was a different story.

Owl fidgeted in Aeduan’s arms. He held her closer; her fuzzy winter hat brushed up against his cheek.

“What would you like to do when we get home?” he asked her. “It’s almost 12 so we should probably have some lunch. What do you think? Strawberry or grape jelly?”

“Blueberry,” Owl replied.

“We don’t have Blueberry jelly,” said Aeduan, pretending that she wasn’t referring to that thrice-damned cat, or worse, about to cycle back to the Halloween book and rethink having a meltdown. A pale face curtained with black hair came to mind, and Aeduan’s dark brows pinched together. All that fuss just to get a library card. Ridiculous.

Now that they were out of the library and away from Evrane, Owl’s voice rang loud and clear. “Blueberry.”

Aeduan repressed a sigh. Time to change tactics. “I doubt Blueberry would like peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. It wouldn’t be good for his stomach. Remember when you ate too much chocolate and you were very, very sick afterward? It would be like that.”

This time Owl started tapping on his shoulder and, sounding a bit more fretful, insisted, “ _Blueberry._ ”

Aeduan halted his steps and twisted Owl in his arms so that he could see her face. His patience was already worn to the breaking point from the morning, and suddenly, it felt like his life depended on Owl not bursting into tears. “Owl, I’m sorry, I don’t-”

But Owl wasn’t paying attention to him. Her eyes were fixed somewhere behind him. Confused, Aeduan turned around to see what it was that had caught her interest.

On the sidewalk outside one of the storefronts was a chalkboard sign. Drawn on it in colorful chalk was a cartoon of a blueberry and lemon in a passionate embrace saying, “You’re my main squeeze!” Underneath it written in big bubble letters was an announcement: “Today’s pastry special: Blueberry Lemon Muffins!”

Aeduan’s head turned back to Owl. “Is that what you want? A muffin?”

Owl nodded emphatically and the comically oversized pom pom on top her head nodded along with her with the gesture. For the first time all day a small smile broke across Aeduan’s face.

“That,” he said, bopping her on the nose with his finger, “I can get you.”

Owl made a noise close to a squeal and curled herself back in on Aeduan’s chest. Excited. She was excited.

Triumph reigned over Aeduan as he walked them back to the coffee shop. He’d done it. He’d figured out what she was trying to say. _Without_ Evrane’s help. The day was far from over, but as far as Aeduan was concerned, him and Owl had earned themselves a long afternoon nap when they got home, and possibly, nothing else.

A bell jangled overhead as he swung open the door and stepped into the coffee shop. Such an overly cutesy name like Jitters normally would have turned him off, but he had no problem buying an overpriced muffin if it meant keeping Owl happy.

It certainly wasn’t Starbucks. It had the kind of incohesive bullshit style of decorating that gave Aeduan a headache. None of the furniture matched. It was as if the owner hit every yard sale he could find, shelled out thirty bucks for what he no doubt thought were priceless treasures, and regurgitated all of it into the compact space. Aeduan eyed the shabby green couch sitting by the working fireplace distastefully; he could have sworn he’d seen something just like it out on a sidewalk recently.

Owl reached up to touch the bells hanging from the door, jostling Aeduan from his private thoughts and he realized that he was just standing in the doorway staring. He made his way over to the counter and the floorboards creaked under his boots. No one was at the register so he set Owl down by the pastry display and crouched next to her so they could look at the selection together.

“There’s the blueberry lemon muffin,” Aeduan said, pointing to a full tray of yellow-golden muffins so moist they were practically glistening. His stomach gave a hungry growl. When was the last time he ate? Did he have breakfast that morning? He vaguely remembered picking off a couple of Owl’s leftover Cheerios.

“Why don’t we pick out a few? Then we can have some for breakfast this week.”

Owl’s face pressed up against the glass was confirmation enough that this was a sound plan. He stood up, leaving her to salivate while he ordered.

Soft music filtered from a dingy radio next to the row of coffee machines. Aeduan looked around the near empty cafe. He didn’t see anyone that looked like they worked there - though, if the mismatched furniture was any indication, this probably wasn’t the type of place that forced their workers into uniforms.

Not seeing much of a choice, Aeduan knocked on the counter and called out, “Hello? Does anyone work here?”

There was a scuffle of movement, and a moment later, a tousled blonde head poked out from behind a sheet of fabric acting as a door off to the right of the counter. She looked surprised by his presence at the counter, which would have confused Aeduan, had it not been for the frown of displeasure it morphed into a second after. She made no move to come out from behind the curtain and continued to eye him suspiciously.

Aeduan cleared his throat.

“I’d like to order.”

“Alright,” the girl replied slowly, finally leaving her hiding spot and approaching the counter. “What do you want?”

_Some better customer service, that’s what._

“Muffins,” Aeduan grunted. “Two blueberry lemon, a cranberry, a pumpkin, two chocolate chip-” Aeduan stopped and eyed the girl sharply. “Aren’t you going to write this down?”

Her eyes fluttered impatiently. “Don’t need to. Continue.”

But Aeduan didn’t continue. He stared at her, and for the longest time, that’s all he did. Just like he would any low-life perp.

That’s what he’d been known for back in his days at the Academy. Intimidation. Sure, he was formidable with a gun and anyone stupid enough to challenge him to hand-to-hand combat learned quite violently that Aeduan was the top of their class for reasons that had nothing to do with his father being the commissioner. But it was his presence, his overall being, that set him apart from everyone else. His sargent once chuckled after Aeduan had busted a long-time drug dealer in his first year that the perp in question had called him _inhuman_.

It wouldn’t be long before the barista cracked. Aeduan had yet to meet anyone who could stand to look him directly for more than a couple seconds - criminal or not.

Sure enough, the girl lifted her chin, her only act of defiance as she pulled a pad of paper from her apron pocket and plucked a pen from a chipped mug next to the register. With a mild expression, she clicked it’s retractable head and rested the tip on top of the pad, waiting.

Aeduan started from the beginning. “Two blueberry lemon muffins, a cranberry, a pumpkin, two chocolate chip, a corn, an apple cinnamon, and a black coffee to-go.”

“Size?” the girl prompted, not looking up while she wrote.

“Large.”

She jotted down his answer and was just about to turn around and get started when he caught her eye. He cocked his head to the side.

There was no misunderstanding his intent, and for a second, she looked like she was about to argue, but like a suspect resigning them to arrest, obediently rotated to face him and looked down at her notepad.

Aeduan smirked.

_Just like a perp. They’re all the same._

Her speech was robotic and forced: “Two blueberry lemon muffins, a cranberry, a pumpkin, two chocolate chip, a corn, an apple cinnamon, and one _large_ black coffee to-go.”

Aeduan tucked his amusement away just as the girl finished and looked up at him. He didn’t say anything, but nodded his approval for her to get on with the order.

Well. If there had been any mystery as to why she didn’t like him before, there certainly wasn’t one now.

It was with bitter satisfaction that Aeduan watched her scramble to collect the muffins he ordered. He couldn’t care less whether or not she liked him. She was a complete stranger. A _barista_. Certainly not worth the effort. But that didn’t stop the familiar sting of being treated less than human he’d encountered under worse circumstances than now.

When the muffins were boxed and the lid was closed upon the coffee cup, the girl rang up the items on the register. “That will be $18.72.”

Aeduan dug his wallet out of his back pocket and handed her a twenty. She punched a couple keys on the register, scooped out the change and handed it to him without looking at him.

As Aeduan tucked his wallet in his back pocket, it occurred to him that he wouldn’t be able to carry Owl with the muffins and coffee. “Can I have a bag for that?” he asked pointing to the pastry box.

This was a catastrophic inconvenience judging the eye roll the girl wasn’t quite able to hide as she ducked down beneath the counter and pulled out a paper bag. She placed the box into the bag. “There, how’s that?” she asked in such a falsely concerned tone that Aeduan almost said something he most definitely would not have done her the courtesy of hiding its true intent from.

Instead, Aeduan only grunted a confirmation. He could be passive aggressive too. If she didn’t want to talk to him, then he wouldn’t burden her with speech.

“Fabulous,” she heaved, and without another word, she spun around and escaped behind the curtain with a dramatic flourish.

Aeduan gave the tapestry a withering look before turning to Owl. She had moved on from the muffins and was now inspecting a row of decorated cupcakes.

“All set,” Aeduan announced. Better to put an end to this excursion before she got any ideas. Owl tore her gaze away for the cakes to look at Aeduan, slightly dazed. Then her eyes dropped to the big bag hanging from the crook of his elbow. Her face lit up and she quickly scurried onto her feet and climbed into Aeduan’s waiting arms.

Aeduan hefted Owl up, trying to make his hold on her comfortable as he could for himself with the addition of the bag on his arm. Once he felt like everything and everyone was secure, he reached for the cup of coffee on the counter with his free hand.

The bell tinkled goodbye to them as they left the shop. Snow had started to fall, harmless little flakes that disappeared the moment they touched the wet pavement. Hopefully it wouldn’t get worse before they got home. Aeduan paused outside the store to blow across the open hole in the cover of his coffee and took a tentative sip. Owl tried to catch snowflakes as he mulled over its taste, then he grudgingly took another, more generous, drink. He would have loved nothing more than to have hated it, just to get in one more shot at the barista, but _hell-gates_. It was good.

* * *

The one problem with the library was that there were very few places to have a private conversation. While phone calls in the library were frowned upon for obvious reasons, the staff room didn’t offer much privacy either, as the kitchen where most people took their lunches was connected to the offices. So Iseult resolved to take her phone call out in the cold on the stone steps of the library. It had started to snow and Iseult wiped off the wetness on her phone screen. She’d been standing there for several minutes, mustering up the courage to call Alma back, and there was already a starscape of snowflakes on Iseult’s wool coat.

The universe was really letting her have it today. Bad enough that her morning had gone just as disastrously as she predicted: one angry man and a child she wouldn’t be surprised had already summoned a hex to curse her with. Now, this.

Iseult pressed the call button and lifted the phone to her ear. After a couple rings, Alma’s voice sang sweetly in her ear.

“Iseult,” she answered, sounding perfectly pleasant. “You got my call.”

“Yes,” Iseult responded stiffly. “Sorry I didn’t pick up. I’m at work. Is-is everything alright?”

“Oh, everything’s fine!” Alma chirped, and even though that was good news, Iseult still felt uneasy. If nothing was wrong, then something else was up, and that was never good.

“Ok… does my mom need anything?”

“No, not really.” And then, Alma, who was always so composed and never stumbled over her words like Iseult did, flustered a little. “But well, I was thinking - hoping - that you’d like to come visit sometime. It’s been awhile since we’ve seen you...”

Alma trailed off, leaving Iseult to grapple with her conscious in the uncomfortable silence. She kicked her heel into the stone step.

That hadn’t exactly been an accident - her not visiting. Saldonica was far, and since Safi’s car was about as trustworthy as Chiseled Cheater, Iseult took the long train ride to get there. It was a convenient excuse to have on hand, what with it being a whole day affair, and a costly one at that.

Iseult must have taken too long to respond because Alma started talking again.

“I know it’s hard with you working all the time, of course,” she said. The understanding in her voice was so genuine that it made Iseult hate her a little more. “But Gretchya’s had some really good days in the last few weeks, and I just thought it’d be good for both of you to spend some time with each other. I know she’d love to see you.”

Iseult nearly laughed at that last part. Of course, this was all coming from Alma. Gretchya hadn’t asked for Iseult at all. She would have been stupid to have thought that to begin with.

Gretchya didn’t need Iseult for anything. Except for her money. Aside from that, she got everything she needed from the neat little package that was Alma. Before she became her caretaker, she had been more of a daughter to her than Iseult ever was. She was everything Iseult wasn’t. Every facet of her being was sewn together with a steady needle. Sharp in its precision and effortless in its design. There were no bumps to smooth out. No runs, no frays. Alma was flawlessly put together. _Perfect_.

“I- will try,” Iseult croaked.

“Of course,” Alma’s melodic voice flowed through the speaker, so at odds with Iseult’s. Then, she laughed lightly, “Scruff misses you too.”

If it had been anyone but Alma, Iseult would have thought she was trying to manipulate her into visiting. But Alma was above such tactics. Scruffs, her childhood dog, was the one thing she did miss in Saldonica. She’d give just about anything to see him. Before Safi came along, he had been the closest thing to a best friend she’d ever had. In fact, he’d been her only friend. The thought of Alma giving him all of his belly rubs and ear scratches caused Iseult’s heart to clench painfully.

“I’ll let Gretchya know that you’re going to look over your work schedule and get back to us, ok?” said Alma. She sounded happy.

Iseult nodded even though Alma couldn’t see it. “Ok.”

“Is there anything else you want me to tell your mom? How’s work?”

“Work is fine.” Iseult paused. Then, said, “I got offered a position in the Children’s Room. I just started today.”

A surprised gasp followed. “That’s wonderful, Iseult!” Alma exclaimed. “Gretchya will be thrilled.”

 _Doubt it._ “Yeah. Listen, Alma, I should go. My break is almost over and I don’t want to be late getting back, it being my first day and all.”

“Oh yes, of course,” Alma hastened to agree. She sighed happily as though they had just shared the most splendid conversation together. “Well, let us know when a good time to visit is. We’ll be here. Take care, Iseult.”

“Right. You too.” And not knowing what else to say, Iseult hung up.

There were still a few minutes left in her break, so Iseult stood on the steps of the library, watching the snow coming down more steadily than it had before. Across the rooftops and the city horizon, grey clouds hung ominously, the promise of a storm in the air. Iseult tipped her head back so that all she could see was the white abyss of the sky. For a moment, it felt like she was suspended in the air. Nothing else existing. All there was was stasis.

_Stasis in your fingertips and in your toes._

Iseult blinked, open-mouthed, against the snow falling into her eyes. Ice melted on her cheeks, running rivers down her jaw.

After, when she marched up the steps, she wiped them away.

She was Iseult det Midenzi, daughter of Gretchya det Midenzi, and she did not cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for reading! For some reason I struggled with this chapter and even posting it now, I'm still not entirely happy with it, but onwards we go! Sometimes you gotta let go to open yourself up to improvement. <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iseult and Aeduan cross paths and test the limits of social anxiety...

4 days had passed and still Evrane had not called.

Friday afternoon found Aeduan parked outside Cora and Lisbet’s school in his car, fingers drumming restlessly across the steering wheel. His phone was stashed away in his pocket, practically burning a hole through his pants for all its temptation. Twice he had almost ripped the damn thing out and made the call to Evrane. Twice he’d thought better of it.

She said she’d call him with her schedule. He wasn’t about to waste his time hunting her down.

A disgruntled noise from the backseat made Aeduan look over his shoulder.

Owl blinked sleepily at him from her car seat, bottom lip puffed out and pouty. She looked more like a puffy pink marshmallow crammed into a much too small space, the shiny nylon material of her winter coat spilling out from underneath the tightly drawn straps holding her hostage. She hated the contraption almost as much as Aeduan. He had taken down 400 lb men high on coke in less time than it took him to wrangle Owl into the damn thing. At least now she didn’t kick and scream.

“Not much longer,” Aeduan told her, checking at the clock on the dashboard. 

They’d fallen into a comfortable routine on the weekends. On Friday afternoons, Aeduan, along with Owl, would drive up to Ponzin and pick up the two sleepover bags Ragnor left for Aeduan on the porch of his childhood home. Then, they would head over to Lisbet and Cora’s school and camp out there until the bell rang.

Today had gone the same as usual, except Aeduan had added one extra pit stop along the way: Jitters.

Aeduan took a sip from his lukewarm coffee, watching the regular crossguard unpack his gear from his van. He hadn’t planned on going back to the coffee shop, especially after how irritating his experience with that inept barista had been. But from the moment he woke up, he found himself craving the coffee’s smooth, rich taste. 

Fortunately, the girl wasn’t working. He’d been able to purchase his coffee and a muffin to split with Owl in peace.

Outside, the crossguard unfolded a flimsy collapsible chair by the crosswalk and settled down into it with his stop sign resting across his lap. He was an older man, with wispy white hair tucked underneath a faded red baseball cap and wore wire-rimmed glasses. The moment he relaxed in the chair, his head turned towards Aeduan’s parked car. He nodded in greeting and Aeduan nodded back. It was their thing.

Aeduan was so used to people avoiding him when he was in uniform that such a small, customary gesture was unnerving. He was still getting used to it. Sometimes he forgot he wasn’t wearing it anymore. Or carrying a gun. Not that he needed one to be scary. There were plenty of inmates who could testify to that. 

The unmistakable sound of a bell announcing the end of the school day rang in the distance. Soon enough kids would be pouring out the doors. It would be some time before Lisbet and Cora would be out though. Aeduan knew by now that Lisebt liked to chat with her teachers after class, ask any one of the dozen follow-up questions she always had about the lesson or go over a problem she got wrong on the previous night’s homework. Aeduan loved that about her. And Cora would wait dutifully by the door until she was ready. He loved that too.

Aeduan continued to rap his fingers on the steering wheel as he watched the crossing guard guide the first and most eager to start their weekend group of kids across the street. Aeduan’s attention stayed with one boy about Cora’s age, around 6 or 7, who broke off from the group, hustling as fast as his little feet could take him. Waiting for him outside a car was a man, presumably his father, and when the boy got to him, he jumped into his arms, backpack and all. The man held him tight and pressed a kiss to his cheek before setting him down and ushering him into the backseat of his car while the kid started jabbering away. 

His coffee was down to its very last dregs, but Aeduan took an absent sip from the cup anyway, staring hard at the dad tossing the kid’s backpack in the trunk and closing it shut, all the while the boy had his head poked outside the open window and was still talking animatedly as if he couldn’t wait the 5 seconds it would take for his dad to get into the car. 

Aeduan remembered when Ragnor used to surprise him after school to pick him up in his patrol car. Such a spectacle. All the other kids would watch in envious fascination as Aeduan ran to the man in the intimidating uniform waiting by super cool sleek car with the silently flashing lights that he put on just for his son. They’d hover around the car, asking all sorts of questions and beg to hear the siren, to which the police officer would oblige to much cheering. Only when the young pretty school teacher caught up to the boy and slipped into the arms of the man to kiss him would the children scatter. 

Aeduan never understood why Ragnor had pushed so hard for Cora and Lisbet to go to Covent Academy. He had stopped coming when Aeduan was ten.

Without much warning, Aeduan slapped his hand down on the steering wheel, and Owl, who had been close to falling asleep, jerked awake confused. Aeduan shook his head, furious with himself for what he was about to do, but he couldn’t stop himself. Something about seeing that little boy outside with his father flicked a switch in him, and he shifted jerkily in his seat to gain access to the phone in his back pocket. When he’d freed it, he didn’t give himself a second to think about it. He swiped open his phone and pressed _call_ on his most recent contact.

“Hello,” a melodious voice said from the other end.

“Why haven’t you called me back?” Aeduan demanded. 

There was a pause. “Aeduan. How... unexpected.”

“Unexpected?” Aeduan repeated in a barely controlled growl. “Have you already forgotten our agreement?”

“Of course I haven’t forgotten.” The words were spoken slowly and calmly. There was no defensive edge to them. That only spurred Aeduan on. 

“Then why haven’t you called? You said you would look over your schedule and get back to me.”

“I did, didn’t I?” Evrane mused lightly. The casual observation scraped over Aeduan’s tightly-wound nerves. “Well, now that you have me, why don’t you and Owl come in on Monday?” 

“Monday,” Aeduan deadpanned. “That’s it? You don’t need to look over your schedule?” He expelled a bitter breath. “What, were you just waiting for me to call you?”

Silence answered him, and somehow Aeduan knew Evrane was smiling. He exhaled deeply.

“You were waiting for me to call you,” he said again, resigned to the truth. But his anger could only be kept at bay for so long, and with a surge of resentful understanding he bit out, “A _test_.”

“Aeduan,” Evrane said, his name sounding sad on her tongue. “If Owl is to be your child, she needs to be your priority. Always. You can’t wait around for others to cater to her needs. And you certainly can’t let your pride get in the way of doing what’s in her best interest. I didn’t mean for this to be a test. I- ” She cut herself off as though afraid to continue. Aeduan’s ears latched on to the silence hovering on the other end of the line, overly aware of his heart beating against his ribs. “I want to help Owl, Aeduan. But I can’t do that if you don’t trust me. Owl’s issues are now your issues. You’re just as much a part of this agreement as she is. I know this isn’t easy for you, but maybe… maybe it’s not so easy for me too. I never thought I’d get a second chance to help you.” 

Aeduan shook his head, looking down at his lap, thankful that she couldn’t see him. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he murmured. He recognized the irony in saying that possibly to the one person responsible for saving his life. Perhaps Evrane heard it too because she chuckled a second later, a watery sound that broke Aeduan’s heart. 

“You’ve made it this far, haven’t you?” 

Something that might have been laugh escaped Aeduan’s throat. “No thanks to you.”

There was that silent smile again. “Enjoy your weekend with the girls. I’ll see you and Owl on Monday.” And with that Evrane hung up. 

Aeduan lifted his head and checked his rearview mirror; Owl was watching him curiously as though to ask if he was alright. He gave her a tired smile.

_If Owl is to be your child…_

If he was going to be a father. That’s what Evrane really had wanted to say. And she was right. About everything, of course. Aeduan wasn’t an idiot. He could be stubborn as all hell, be disagreeable to even the most patient of people, but he wasn’t an idiot. He knew when he was in the right and he knew when he was in the wrong, and perhaps the worst thing worth knowing was that he had been wrong on all counts when it came to Evrane. 

He’d have to try harder. For Owl. For his-

He couldn’t even say the word. She wasn’t _his_ anything. Not yet. 

The school lawn was littered with children now. After about ten more minutes, the front doors opened again and both Lisbet and Cora appeared. With a sharp pang of realization, Aeduan recognized Sister Nadya in the doorway behind them and watched as she waved goodbye to the girls. He forced himself to tear his eyes away from her kind smile, discernible even from such a distance, and focused on the two dark-haired girls coming towards him, the smaller of the two rushing ahead of the taller, more subdued one. Aeduan undid his seatbelt and quickly checked that no other cars were driving by before opening the car door. 

“Slow down, Cora,” he called as he walked around to the sidewalk. “It’s still icy.” 

“The snow is almost all gone,” Cora huffed between pants, slowing down as she got closer to Aeduan. She was so small and the enormous backpack hanging from her shoulders looked almost comical. 

“Still.” Aeduan knelt down on one knee as Cora skidded to a halt in front of him and threw herself into his arms. When she eventually pulled back, he perused her up and down. “Where’s your coat? 

Cora jutted her thumb over her shoulder. “In my backpack.”

“Wouldn’t it be more useful on you?”

Cora shrugged. Lisbet came shuffling up behind her and Aeduan straightened up from the ground. She, at least, was wearing her coat. 

“Hey,” he said, pulling her into his side with one arm, while his other hand became occupied with Cora’s little fingers. “How was school?”

“Good,” she said, and smiling shyly she added, “I got a 105 on my math test.” The statement wasn’t at all boastful or fishing for recognition. Even as she said it, her expression was small and subdued. 

Cora gawped at Lisbet while Aeduan pulled her in closer. “How is that possible, Aedie? I thought 100 was the highest grade!”

“There was a bonus question,” Lisbet explained. “Sometimes teachers add them to give students a chance at extra points. Usually they’re harder than the rest of the test, but they can really help you out if you’ve messed up on other questions.”

Cora’s eyes widened. “And you got it right?”

“Yep,” Lisbet nodded and Cora let out another hushed _Wow_.

“Good work, Lis,” Aeduan congratulated, giving her shoulder an extra squeeze. Her gray eyes sparkled up at him as she gave in to a proud smile. 

“Aedie,” Cora chirruped, tugging at his hand. “I wrote a book today!”

“You did?” he said, being sure to give her his full attention. “What’s it about?”

“It’s about a girl who becomes friends with a bird and he leads her on a magical quest and then they meet a troll who tries to kill them, but he’s not really a bad guy and is just really sad and then... ” 

Cora was practically dancing circles around him with excitement as she prattled on and on about her story. “That sounds like quite a tale,” Aeduan finally managed to slip in when she eventually needed to take a breath. “Why don’t we read it tonight before bed? How’s that sound? But, c’mon, let’s get going. Owl’s waiting. You can tell me more about it on the way home.”

The girls nodded and handed Aeduan their backpacks to store in the trunk while they piled inside the car. Once Aeduan shut his car door and buckled up, he twisted his head over his shoulder to look at all three of his girls. 

Owl sat in between Cora and Lisbet in the middle strapped into her car seat and looked utterly miserable. Her arms and legs sat limp in total defeat. Oh yes, an extra long nap was in order the second they got home.

His sisters liked Owl. There hadn’t been any misgivings on their end when he sat them down and explained to them what his hopeful plans for Owl were. He hadn’t expected anything different. He knew their hearts and knew they would accept her as a part of their family just as he had done with them 10 years ago.

Owl, on the other hand, had been less than thrilled about the two unexpected additions to _her_ family, and little had changed since then. It had become blatantly clear that it was not Owl who had to prove herself worthy of Cora and Lisbet’s love, but the other way around.

The girls never complained though, for which, Aeduan was grateful. Cora was sure to read to Owl her story the moment they got home (whether she was interested in hearing it or not) and Lisebt would no doubt help Aeduan make dinner and take care to do little things like chop up Owl’s food into smaller pieces and refill her sippy cup even if it wasn’t entirely empty yet. 

“Everyone buckled up?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at Cora, who had a tendency to put her belt strap behind her back. 

“Yes,” they answered in unison. Owl’s scowl deepened. His angry puffy marshmallow. 

“Alright then,” Aeduan said, turning to the steering wheel and starting the car. “Let’s hear more about this story, Cora.”

* * *

“Thanks again for doing this. You have my unending gratitude.”

Ryber Fortiza stood at Iseult’s desk on Monday afternoon, a stack of books towering between them. A week had gone by since she started working in the Children’s Room and Ryber’s books had finally arrived.

“It was no trouble at all,” Iseult told her. “I’m just glad you were able to get enough copies in time. Eridysi Goechenka is still in high demand, if you can believe it.”

“Oh I believe it,” said Ryber. “She’s one of my favorite authors. I’ve read all her works. This,” she gestured proudly to the tower of books, “is my way of plaguing my obsession onto everyone else.”

Iseult eyed the top of the stack and the silver foiled words carved into the book’s worn cover. _Sisters of Sight._ She picked it up fondly.

“You picked a good one. They’re all good, but this is a classic.”

Ryber’s eyebrows shot up. “You’ve read it then?”

Iseult nodded. “Only a dozen times.” Ryber smiled at that, and the sight of it, all teeth and no reservation, made Iseult feel more intrepid. “I’m actually in the process of trying to collect all of her published works. It’s kind of a mini project of mine. It’s hard though. Some of her more obscure books are out of print. Things written earlier in her career before she became well-known.” 

Ryber heaved a sigh of dismay. “Why do they do that?”

Iseult knew who ‘they’ were. Publishers. She shook her head solemnly. “I don’t know. It breaks my heart… Words that will never see the light of day all because publishers don’t think there’s a market for it.”

“You would think that with her death they’d want to capitalize on that. Also, awful,” Ryber added with a disgusted grimace to Iseult. Iseult nodded in agreement.

“It’s a shame. I bet she has so much more to say, even though she’s not here...” Iseult trailed off. She sighed and returned _Sisters of Sight_ on top of the stack of books. “The director of this library told me that she has a first edition of _The Raider King_ buried somewhere in her attic. She said she’d bring it in when she found it.”

Ryber’s eyes, more grey than blue, widened. “Seriously? That’s insane!”

“I can text you if she ever finds it.”

“Yes, please! Jeez, why on earth would she keep it packed away in an attic?” Ryber looked positively baffled by Evrane’s life decisions. “I bet it’s worth a lot of money. Not that I would ever sell it if it were mine,” she added hastily, as though reading Iseult’s mind. Even now, with her funds dwindling by the day, she’d never be able to part with such a treasure. 

“I’ll let you know,” Iseult assured her as Ryber pulled the mountain of books across the desk and strategically lifted them into her arms. The tower wobbled precariously against her chest. “You’re not walking home with that, are you?” she asked cautiously as Ryber braced the top of the stack with her chin. 

“Nope,” she replied with a shaky laugh and she tried to take a step without causing the books to come tumbling down. “My boyfriend is picking me up.” 

“Good.” Even though Ryber looked ridiculous, Iseult’s cool expression never wavered. Safi would be rolling around on the floor by now. When Ryber was halfway to the door, she tried looking over her shoulder back at Iseult, but with a glance at the books in her arms, thought better of it.

“You’re going to come to book club, right?” she called softly so as to not disturb anyone else in the Children’s Room. “You and Safi?”

Iseult’s nose twitched and she pressed her lips together. She was glad Ryber wasn’t able to see her. “I don’t know. Safi isn’t much of a reader.”

“Oh don’t worry about that! Kullen always drags his roommate into our meetings since he lives there, and he almost always never reads the book. It’ll still be fun.” 

“I- I’ll have to check my work schedule. Safi’s too.”

“Great,” Ryber said, sounding so genuinely pleased, Iseult felt terrible about the story already materializing in her head that she could use to get out it. “It’s on a Friday night, so at least there’s no classes to worry about. Unless you’re one of those weird people who elected to take a night class.”

“I’m not.” Guilt twisted into regret. Even without her made up story, she was already a liar. She’d have to tell Ryber eventually that she’d dropped out of school. If not now, then definitely before the book club. Better to come clean to one person about being a failure than to a whole room of strangers. 

“Perfect.” By now Ryber had made it to the door. This time when she spoke, she managed to turn and face Iseult. The stack of books was still propped under her chin. “I forgot to ask, how’s everything going here?” 

Iseult opened her mouth to answer, but just then, a figure appeared in the doorway, looming behind Ryber. Cropped dark hair, leather jacket, sparkling blue eyes.

 _Aeduan_.

He marched around Ryber, barely giving her or the stack of books in her straining arms a second’s glance.

“Good,” Iseult somehow managed to respond after finding her breath. “Everything’s good here.”

That was about to change, judging by the dark gaze fixed on her as Aeduan stalked towards her, which was a shame because things really were going better than they had when she first started over a week ago. Her lungs contracted uncomfortably. He didn’t look happy.

Ryber seemed to understand that their conversation was over. Unable to wave or move her head, she shot Iseult a parting glance and strained smile, possibly hoping to convey something along the lines of, _Good luck! Hope he doesn’t eat you for lunch!_

When Aeduan reached the desk, he slapped an envelope down between them like he was throwing down a gauntlet. 

“I’d like to get a library card.”

The words were as cold as his eyes. Not daring to risk stuttering in front of him, Iseult swallowed and reached for the envelope. She peeled open the slip of paper and pulled out its contents. There, in official typed writing, was an apartment lease for one Aeduan Amalej. 

“Good enough?”

Iseult’s eyes slowly rolled up to meet his penetrating stare. A challenge.

She nodded, still not trusting herself with words, folding the document with care and tucking it back into the envelope. When she held it out for him, she finally felt brave enough to speak.

“Perfect.”

Aeduan nodded sharply, though there was no sign of satisfaction in his face. A small dent still worried itself between his brow - possibly a permanent fixture on his otherwise smooth face.

Iseult gathered the necessary materials and laid them out in front of him, overly aware of him watching her, scrutinizing her every move. But her motions were fluid, poised, lending no indication to how she felt on the inside. 

“I’ll need you to fill out this form with all of your up-to-date information,” Iseult explained. She was pleased, albeit surprised, with how commanding her voice sounded. “When you’re finished I’ll enter you into our database and have a card for you to sign. That’s all.”

Again, Aeduan nodded, his hard expression a slate of ice as he picked up the pen Iseult had laid out for him and got to work on filling out the form.

Iseult thought it unlikely that he’d appreciate her hovering, so she sat down at her computer and busied herself with starting his entry, all the while sneaking glances at him out of the corner of her eye. When he finished, he returned it to her without saying a word. In the minutes that followed, all that spoke between them was the clicking Iseult’s keyboard.

“Almost done,” Iseult hummed, more for her own reassurance than Aeduan’s. He still watched her like a hawk. She could feel the tremble in her hands. It was a miracle she wasn’t mis-typing everything. 

With his last bit of information saved, she opened a drawer next to her and grabbed a stack of library cards. She slipped one out and scanned it into the computer. “I just need you to sign here,” she pointed to the line underneath the card’s barcode “and then you’ll be all set.”

Aeduan’s eyes rested a moment too long on the spot where Iseult’s finger pointed, and with a flicker of horror, she realized her nail was still covered in the ridiculous sparkly purple nail polish Safi had insisted on trying out on her a couple nights ago when they were both bored. Well - _Iseult_ was bored. Safi was merely bored with studying and claimed it was stifling other more imaginative and wholly worthwhile endeavors. Safi’d even tried painting on a heart, which turned out to look more like a blob than anything. 

“Just like yours!” she’d joked. 

The clipped way he took the card from her sparkle encrusted fingers told Iseult exactly how he felt about her “blob”. She watched him scribble his signature, and she imagined how he’d react if she offered him the congratulatory glitter pencil and chunky animal eraser that was customary with all new patrons that signed up for a library card in the Children’s Room. _Better skip the bubble party too._

Aeduan straightened, extending the pen to Iseult. She took it and with a weak sort of smile said as they did to all their new patrons: “Congratulations. You are an official owner of a library card.” 

Aeduan frowned at the card, his expression unreadable. _Oh yeah. Definitely skip the bubble party._

Still staring at the card, he began to walk away. Iseult was about to release a breath of relief when she remembered something. 

“Sir, I almost forgot.” She held up a finger asking him to wait when he turned around. She didn’t miss the flash of annoyance in his eyes as she hurried into the back office, but it really would only take a second. When she reappeared, she was holding a book with a little black cat on the cover.

“I held onto this. In case you came back,” Iseult explained, holding the picture book out to him. “I remembered your little girl wanted it and thought I’d hold onto it so no one else would check it out. I wouldn’t have wanted her to be disappointed if you came back and it wasn’t here anymore. I know it’s a Halloween book and the chances of someone checking it out in January are slim, but you’d be surprised with how often holiday books get checked out throughout the year. They-”

 _Stop talking stop talking STOP TALKING._ Iseult clamped her mouth shut. Where was her stutter when she needed it? 

Aeduan was staring down at the book, frowning just as he had with the library card. He made no move to take it. Iseult swallowed.

“I-it’s yours if you want to take it,” she tried, pressing the book forward bravely. 

Slowly, Aeduan reached a hand and took it. 

“Thank you…” The words trailed off, and though he had already talked to Iseult before, he sounded as though he had not spoken in years. Or perhaps it was just the words. Rough and unused. He cleared his throat, then spoke again. “That’s… that’s very kind of you.”

Iseult only watched him studying the front cover of the book. She didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t angry, that much was clear. The only thing that was clear, really. 

Aeduan turned away, still considering the book. Brow furrowed like he’d never seen anything like it. 

“Sir,” Iseult called after him. He twisted around and though his face was as it always was, all of its hardness was gone. He looked almost in a daze as he blinked at her. Younger, somehow. She pointed apologetically to the book in his hands. “I need to check you out. Check the _book_ out.”

Heat rushed to Iseult’s face faster than she could correct herself. _Fuck_ , did she really just say that? 

“Oh.” Aeduan looked down at the book, then back to her again. For a third time, he walked back to the desk and handed her the book. 

“Thanks.” She scanned the book, his account already open from when she set up his card, and printed a due date receipt. “You’re all set,” she said, handing the book back to him, along with the slip. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“No,” Aeduan said immediately. A little bit of the usual hard edge in his voice had returned. He tucked the book under his arm and turned away, and so Iseult did the same, thinking she should probably check on the the returns bin before it overflowed. It was afternoon and the place would soon be swarming with the after school kids. However, Iseult was only halfway to it when Aeduan’s voice pinned her to the spot.

“Actually-” Iseult turned halfway and looked over her shoulder only to find Aeduan marching back to her desk with all the conviction of a soldier about to head into battle, possibly to his impending death. Her spine straightened as though she were about to do the same. It certainly felt that way. 

“I could use some help. I need...” Iseult watched the muscles in Aeduan’s face tighten as he fought for the right word. “A recommendation,” he finally said, then added, “If you have the time.”

It almost sounded like he was hoping she _wouldn’t_ have the time. His pale eyes searched her face, and once again she was drawn into their frozen depths. She licked her lips and gave a little shake of her head. “I’m not too busy to help. That’s… that’s why I’m here.”

Aeduan nodded, that perfunctory little jerk of his head that he seemed to favor over words. Iseult walked around the desk to meet him, and for some reason this was very different from where she had just been.

He towered over her about a head and a half. This close she could smell the worn leather of his jacket and… something else. Something familiar. Whatever it was made her nose wiggle and her insides squirm. 

Aeduan looked at her questioningly. She tucked a stray hair behind her ear and looked out over the children’s room, pretending not to notice.

“What kind of book do you think you’re looking for?” she asked, then pointing to different shelving areas explained, “We have toddler board books and picture books by the play area. Nonfiction is by the computers and study tables. Then,” she indicated the shelves lined up in the middle of the room and hugging the walls, “we have early readers, middle grade, and young adult fiction. Anything older than that and you’ll have to go upstairs.” 

Aeduan said nothing, surveying the room absently like he knew all this. Iseult watched him, thinking that he would eventually say something. But he didn’t. 

“What reader age are you looking for?” she prompted patiently, tucking her hands behind her back. 

Aeduan opened his mouth, then snapped it shut. The pulse in his jaw ticked. If a simple question such as that had irritated the man, then he was truly beyond Iseult. His eyes narrowed along the shelves of books.

Finally, he turned to look at her. “She’s young. Doesn’t read much.” He cast out the words like a challenge. As always, Iseult, dutifully, didn’t let the coldness stir an ounce of emotion on her face.

“Then perhaps another picture book,” she said, and feeling a sense of foreboding in burdening him with another question, she asked, “What does she like?”

Aeduan’s frown returned. Thinking. “Cats.”

“Cats,” repeated Iseult slowly. Well, it was a start at least.

“And animals,” Aeduan said with sudden conviction. “More than people.”

A burgeoning smile trembled along the seam of Iseult’s lips. It sounded like she and Aeduan’s mysterious little friend had something in common.

“I think I know exactly what she might like.”

With that, Iseult led Aeduan through the low-standing maze of shelves, weaving in and out of the way of any children they crossed paths with in the aisles, all the while Aeduan followed unquestioningly behind her, nodding and listening to her suggestions as she pulled book after book from the shelves and handed each one to him. By the time they’d walked away from the last row of the Z’s, he had a generous pile stacked in his arms. 

“That should keep her occupied for awhile,” Iseult commented, making conversation as Aeduan inspected the selection. She wasn’t quite sure when, but somewhere along their little excursion, his demeanor had softened. He even looked through the books with something that might have been genuine satisfaction. Incredible. 

“Would you like to check out?”

“I was thinking,” Aeduan grunted, then stopped - Iseult assumed from his slightly conflicted expression - for more thinking. He began again. “She might like it if I read her a book before bed. Like a chapter book.”

“With animals?”

Aeduan shrugged. “Maybe something with magic? I don’t think she’d object to dragons.”

“Oh.” The word floated out of Iseult like a feather on the wind. She swept past Aeduan, carried by her own timid excitement to the shelves along the wall. Vaguely, she felt him following her, but as always, he didn’t ask any questions. The tips of her fingers dusted over the rows of books as she traced the letters of the alphabet to where she needed to be, and when she pulled out a thin volume, she didn’t even realize - or care - that she was smiling.

“ _My Father’s Dragon_ ,” she said, feeling strangely breathless, handing it to Aeduan. He remained impassive, but, inside, Iseult bubbled with the exhilaration that only comes from wielding the power of recommending an undeniably remarkable book. “It’s about a boy who runs away to rescue a baby dragon. And,” she tapped the lion on the cover, “there are plenty of animals.” 

Aeduan studied it curiously, as usual, not saying anything. Iseult ducked down to the shelf below where she found the book.

“And since we’re in the G’s,” she murmured to herself, tracing a finger along the book spines, searching for _Goechenka_. 

“Aeduan.”

Iseult straightened and peered around the side of Aeduan. Evrane was walking towards them, adorned in ocean blue and her silver bangles jingling on her wrists. Her eyes brightened when she spotted Iseult behind Aeduan. The little girl at her feet trailing behind her, however, eyed her warily. 

“Ah, good! You two have met,” said Evrane, joining them. When she spotted the books in Aeduan’s arms, she tilted her head to the side and arched an eyebrow in intrigue. “That’s quite an ambitious collection you have there.”

Aeduan responded with something that could have been a grunt or a cough - whichever it was, it wasn’t words. Not sure why she felt the need to smooth it over, Iseult swooped in. 

“Aeduan asked for help picking out some titles.” She glanced over at him as confirmation only to find herself pinned under an ice-blue glare. 

“Did he really?” Evrane remarked with mild astonishment. She was looking at Aeduan bemusedly, arms folded across her chest. “I’m glad to hear it.”

Aeduan, looking considerably less happy than he had before Evrane showed up, ignored her and knelt down on one knee to the child’s level, placing the books on the ground next to him. His broad shoulders were all tension, but when he reached out to her, Iseult couldn’t believe it was the same person who had all but grunted at Evrane like a neanderthal.

“Owl,” he said, the word feather light on his lips. He didn’t quite smile, but his eyes, the same eyes that had frozen Iseult to the core only seconds ago, were awash with warmth. The girl, Owl, shuffled over to him and wedged herself on the inside of his bent leg and against his chest. 

She did not look at the books.

Evrane turned to Iseult and with delicate politeness said, “Would you mind checking those out? I need a moment with Aeduan.”

“Of course.” Iseult hesitated, then bent down to collect the books next to Aeduan. Their eyes met for a flicker of a heartbeat, and in that moment, Iseult was hit with that kindle of warmth meant for Owl. With sparkling clarity, she wondered what it would be like to have someone look at her that way. To not only be the source of one’s warmth, but the flame as well. 

Iseult quickly pulled away, as though burned, and made her escape with the books. At the desk she began scanning them and she stacked them neatly on top of each other, one after another until there were no more left. Fixing the corner of one of the books so it was perfectly aligned with the rest of the stack, Iseult kept her head bowed low and glanced over at the pair from under her bangs. 

Even while Evrane spoke, Aeduan’s attention was entirely focused on Owl. She had to be his daughter, Iseult thought. Only a parent looks at a child that way. With that innate protectiveness. Like no one else existed. 

Not that she’d know. She wouldn’t exactly describe Gretchya as maternal. 

Iseult considered the pile in front of her and worried about whether or not she should rejoin the pair, only to have her internal debate interrupted by Hilga’s stern but not unkind voice. 

“Iseult, what are you still doing here? Your shift ended 10 minutes ago.”

Iseult glanced at the clock. 2:10. _Shit. When did that happen?_ She’d be late for her shift at Jitters if she didn’t leave soon, which would potentially make Safi late for class. Not that she’d care. She’d probably use it as an excuse to skip class altogether. 

“I was busy helping a patron.”

“Well, I can take over from here,” Hilga said, bustling around the desk. “Are these books for them?”

“Yes. I already checked them out. He’s-”

But Hilga was already shoo-ing her away and Iseult knew better than to argue. She slipped into the back office and gathered her belongings, changed into her boots for the wet walk home, and pulled on her coat, scarf, and gloves. When she came back out, she stopped short in the doorway.

Aeduan was back at the desk and Hilga was nowhere to be found. 

Aeduan’s entire body froze at her appearance.

“I thought you left,” he stated after an uncomfortable moment’s pause.

“I am,” Iseult replied, then quickly amended, “Leaving. Now.” She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “Did you get your books?” 

“We’re leaving too,” he said, not answering her question.

“Oh,” she said dumbly. “Well…” And with nothing left to say or do, she walked around from behind the desk, and with a hesitant pause at Aeduan and Owl by his side, she made her way to the exit. She could feel Aeduan at her heels, following her through the shelves, until they were out of the room and were able to walk side by side, Owl toddling between them, her hand firmly grasped in Aeduan’s.

It was a mistake. That much was clear the second they stepped out of the Children’s Room. From there they were able to walk side by side, but with Owl between them, both Iseult and Aeduan had no choice but to walk at her pace, making the journey through the library a longer and more torturous experience. 

The building was already quiet, but next to Aeduan, the silence was deafening. No sooner had they left the Children’s Room, Iseult found herself wishing she had made up some excuse to hang back. A forgotten book, a phone left behind, _anything_ to avoid this uncomfortable processional. Iseult didn’t trust herself to make something up now. For all her control over her emotions, she was a terrible liar, and Aeduan didn’t seem like the type to be convinced by a clumsy attempt at bullshitting.

Or maybe he was. He seemed pretty damn oblivious to the awkwardness of the situation at hand or the fact that he could speed this trip along and spare them both of this unnecessary pain by picking Owl up and carrying her the rest of the way. 

In the end, Iseult had been a fool. For she did not know the true meaning of awkward until they were outside at the bottom of the library’s stone steps. They both came to a stop when they stepped down onto the sidewalk and for a moment they eyed each other through the falling snow. 

“Well, I’m this way,” Iseult initiated, motioning her head over her shoulder.

Aeduan looked over her and nodded. “Alright.”

Iseult waited for him to say something similar, to tell her they were going the other way or - _Moon Mother, save her_ \- they were headed in the same direction as her. But that assertion never came. Instead, Aeduan simply stood there staring at her as though waiting for her to leave.

So she did. Without so much as a goodbye or a wave, she jerkily pivoted away and plodded through the slush, leaving Aeduan and Owl on the steps of the library. Ice seeped into her boots, but she was already numb with her own mortification. Each bone-cold step taking her further and further away from them and the library seemed to strengthen the tangle of confusion in her head, leaving only one lone thread of thought for her to pull at. 

_What in Noden’s saggy left trident was that?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN EXTRA LONG CHAPTER FOR ALL YOU PATIENT SAINTS!!!
> 
> *PHEW* That was both enjoyable and a struggle (as is with most of my experiences writing). 
> 
> 1.) I really could write Aeduan/Cora/Lisbet fluff forever. HE LOVES THEM SO MUCH AND I CAN'T WAIT FOR THEM TO MEET IN THE ACTUAL BOOKS. SOOZ IS GOING TO KILL ME 😭
> 
> 2.) Ryber is a nerd. I can't wait until I get Ryber and Kullen in a scene together! 
> 
> 3\. That last line was homage to a line in Harry Potter and I think Safi would appreciate it. XD
> 
> 4.) Anyone else dying over the recent teaser updates Sooz has been sharing on social media lately? *raises hand from the grave*
> 
> Thank you for sticking with me, even though I'm slow with updates! In my heart, I strive to stick to an update a month, but I always seem to go just a little bit over that. On a positive note, I've been learning a lot since I started this, especially about process. I spend way too much time agonizing over my initial rough draft, when most of the magic happens in later drafts. That time would be better spent in editing and I usually end up kicking myself in the end for sitting on my rough draft for so long. So yeah. YAY LEARNING!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When a relentless Evrane encourages him to be more adventurous, Aeduan explores the possibility of what life might be without Owl. Meanwhile, Iseult can't help but feel that Safi is keeping something from her.

Aeduan prowled the bookshelves in the Children’s Room barely containing his impatience. The room was unusually busy for the morning. He’d overheard one disgruntled parent grumble about the schools being closed for a teacher development day and thus every corner was crawling with rambunctious children. It didn’t help that Evrane and Owl were late. Or that the main desk was absent one black-haired librarian.

Wherever Iseult was, Aeduan envied her. The cacophony of electronic bells and whistles and high-pitched prepubescent voices migrating from the computer island was giving him a headache. Every couple minutes one of the more stern looking librarians would instruct them to keep their voices down, adding to the fray of noise as well as Aeduan’s irritation. The library should provide headphones, he thought grumpily.

“No books today?” came a voice behind Aeduan.

He turned around and found Evrane and Owl walking down the aisle.

“You’re late,” he said tersely. 

“Yes, well,” Evrane breathed happily, clasping her hands together and sharing a look with Owl that he was surprised to see returned by the child, “we were finishing a puzzle.”

“A puzzle?” Aeduan stared at her incredulously. “Evrane-”

Evrane held up a finger. “Ah. Trust. Remember to trust me.” 

They locked each other in a staring contest. Aeduan held in a breath, impulse strained against his chest-

He conceded with a curt nod. Evrane smiled. 

“So what’s on the agenda this weekend?” Evrane asked as Aeduan knelt down to help Owl into her coat.

Aeduan shrugged. “The same as usual.” They had fallen into a post-session rhythm over the last few weeks, usually involving non-threatening topics like weekend plans or the weather. 

“I’ll pick up the girls from school tomorrow and they’ll stay the weekend. Lisbet has some sort of group project she needs to go to for her science class, but other than that it should be uneventful.” 

Evrane nodded, then eyed him more closely. “And what about you?”

“Me?”

“Yes, you. Do you have any plans?” The manner in which she asked this question suggested only innocent curiosity, but bells were going off in Aeduan’s head. He finished zipping Owl up and stood to face Evrane. He squared his shoulders. 

“I just told you.”

“I mean any plans that don’t involve the girls. Or,” she added as an afterthought, “those girls, at least.”

“Owl will be-” 

“Anyone who _isn’t_ Owl, Lisbet, or Cora.”

Aeduan shook his head, confused. “Who would I-”

“I don’t know, Aeduan,” cut in Evrane, followed by a single exasperated laugh. “Perhaps a friend. Or maybe you’d like to do something on your own.”

Aeduan’s jaw locked. This was definitely outside of their mutually unspoken established topics of conversation. His chest swelled with barely controlled annoyance. “I can’t very well leave Owl at home without someone there to watch her.” Each word was pronounced with an obvious effort of forced civility.

“No, you can’t,” Evrane agreed brightly. “The people handling your adoption case will be very happy to know that you know that.”

“Then what exactly would you suggest I do? Get a babysitter?”

“Yes!”

Aeduan waved a hand between them. “Look, if you’re trying to offer-”

“No, of course I’m not volunteering. I know you would never willingly accept my help. Again,” added Evrane with a flash of her emerald eyes. Before Aeduan could bite back, she was already herding him back into her line of thought. “If not me, then someone else. Perhaps Lisbet. She’s responsible enough.” 

“She’s young.” 

“And perfectly capable.” 

Aeduan pinched the bridge of his nose. He was suddenly very tired. Things had been going so well. Why was she pushing this? When he lowered his hand, he planned on asking her just that, but then she caught it with her own and everything inside him went quiet. The skin was warm and her touch forced his gaze to meet hers. 

He’d seen her every week since she reentered his life, but only now was he suddenly struck by how much Evrane had changed in the last 13 years. Nothing could take away her beauty, but there were little wrinkles branching out from the corners of her eyes like tree roots. He wondered what she was seeing on his face. 

“I’m only suggesting for your own sake,” she assured him calmly. She didn’t let go of his hand. “When was the last time you had a moment to yourself?”

Aeduan swallowed painfully. “I don’t know,” he admitted finally, the confession rough against his throat. 

“Well,” Evrane smiled and she gave his hand encouraging squeeze before releasing it, “maybe it’s time to start thinking about what you can do to change that.”

* * *

“Goat tits! This is the worst.”

“If you had done it last night-”

“ _Iz!_ ”

Iseult hovered by Safi’s shoulder, coffee pot in hand, as her friend tried to scribble down her 9th and final (wrong) answer on a very crumpled looking piece of paper. Her giant calculus textbook lay open on the table, the polished circular area barely big enough for her other school materials, let alone that monstrosity, as it was meant for coffee, not serious work. Well, if you could call whatever Safi was doing serious, which incidentally, Safi didn’t.

“You do know all of that is wrong, right?” Iseult asked.

“Of course it’s all wrong!” Safi snapped, hand not stopping its’ frenzied movements. “What do I look like? A mathematician?!”

No, she didn’t. In fact, she didn’t really look much like Safi either. She’d spent far more time in the bathroom getting ready that morning than she normally did, and the result was a very different image than Iseult was used to seeing at 10 A.M.. Safi’s face was bare as it always was, far too beautiful to be needlessly hindered by make-up, but it looked fresh and clean, and the long shower she had taken had given her golden cheeks a lovely rosy glow. Her hair was prettily braided and pinned around her head like a crown and, if Iseult wasn’t mistaken, she thought she caught a whiff of fruity perfume on her. To top it all off, Safi had left her sweatpants and Cleaved Man hoodie crumpled on the floor and chosen to investigate the contents of her closet, leaving Iseult open-mouthed when she came sweeping out from behind the curtain into Jitters wearing a form fitting burgundy turtle-neck and floral corduroy skirt that showcased her long, lean legs and knee-high suede boots. There was a good chance her calculus professor wouldn’t even recognize her. 

“Better to hand something in than nothing and get zero marks though. This,” Safi tapped the paper with her pencil, “shows I care.”

Iseult snorted. Safi put the last finishing touches on her (wrong) answer with a flourish, then carelessly stuck the sheet of paper into her open textbook and slammed it shut. 

“I’d say ‘job well done’, but we both know that’s not true.” 

Safi grinned smugly at Iseult, looking more than a little satisfied with herself. 

“I think I deserve another donut after all that.” 

“Of course you do,” Iseult said rolling her eyes and turning to retreat behind the coffee counter. She heard the scrape of Safi’s chair as she got up and followed her. While she got another pot of coffee started, Safi no doubt went to inspect the pastry display. A sharp gasp of horror came from behind her back.

“No sprinkles? What is this? _The Grapes of Wrath?_ ”

Iseult, wiping her hands on her apron, turned around. “You know, after watching you bullshit your way through your calculus homework, it’s comforting to hear you make a literary reference.”

Safi scrunched up her nose at the display case. “John Steinbeck taking up cranial space in my head doesn’t change the fact that there are no more sprinkled donuts.”

“Reference Jane Austen and maybe they’ll magically appear.”

Safi glanced over her shoulder, raising an eyebrow at Iseult. “You’re not as funny as you think you are.”

“And _you_ will be fine going a day without a sprinkled donut despite what you may think. Pick something else.” Iseult felt like a mother reprimanding her child.

Safi looked back at the pastries with a forlorn sort of sigh. After a moment’s careful deliberation (for these truly are some of the hardest decisions we are presented with at 10 in the morning) she slid the glass door open and reached for a banana chocolate chip muffin. 

“A sensible substitute,” Iseult congratulated, waving open a brown paper bag and holding it out for Safi to deposit her muffin into. Safi dropped it in, looking resentful, but Iseult knew she was hamming it up. Safi had no issues when it came to expressing her anger.

Safi took the bag from Iseult and glared down at its sprinkle-less contents. The raw judgement burning behind her eyes, all directed at a defenseless muffin, made Iseult think of something.

“Hey, you haven’t run into that guy from the bar on campus, have you?”

The paper bag crinkled under Safi’s hands as she rolled the top closed. “What guy?”

“That asshole who,” Iseult hesitated, mentally wincing at the memory, “yelled at you.”

Safi’s hands froze. “Ah,” she merely said, then resumed twisting the paper bag, despite it being well and closed. “The ingrate thwarted by a single button.”

“Yeah, him. Have you seen him?”

Safi gave the bag a final twist, then looked up at Iseult, offering her a closed-lip smile. Her shoulders bounced once and she shook her head. “Nope,” she said brightly. She strolled out from behind the counter and back to her table. “His tits probably fell off from frost exposure and he’s holed up in some hospital somewhere awaiting reconstructive surgery.”

Iseult watched Safi carefully. For whatever reason, her tone had snagged on something in Iseult and held her in place. Somewhere wrong. A lie, possibly.

But never, in all their years of friendship, had Safi lied to Iseult. And never had Iseult lied to Safi. They told each other everything. Safi had told Iseult about her uncle and the years she spent growing up with an alcoholic. She had told her about Chiseled Cheater and the false kisses they’d shared. She had told her about her parents and how she missed them and would trade anything to have them back. Anything, except Iseult.

And Iseult had told Safi about Gretchya. A childhood filled with loneliness and endless beratement. She had told her about not being able to make ends meet and needing to drop out of school. She had even told her that she had never been kissed until last summer. 

Now, suddenly, Iseult was wishing she hadn’t asked about the Nubrevnan. The snag was no longer a snag, but twisting itself into a tangled web of wrongness with no obvious beginning or end.

“I have a proposition for you,” Safi announced, slicing through Iseult’s thoughts, though, the knot remained fully intact. A living, breathing thing now. The shift in topic seemed to feed it, pull it tighter into submission, so that all Iseult could do to contain it was stare at her friend. 

“How would you like to go to a party on Friday night?”

“Well, you know how much I like parties,” Iseult managed to reply deadpanned.

“I know, but it’s at Vaness’ and I’ve always considered her parties more like sophisticated soirees, you know? She doesn’t put up with the bullshit you get at other parties on campus.”

“I guess.” Safi wasn’t wrong. Now busy working on her masters, Vaness didn’t have time to involve herself in the antics of college. In truth, she never had. It’s how she’d earned herself the title of the “Iron Bitch” in just the first week of her freshman year. Even before she graduated, she’d displayed a low tolerance for her peers and the debauchery they would find themselves in every weekend. Her parties always had an air of opulence around them and were strictly invitation only. _Except_ for her infamous end-of-the-year party. That was open to everyone and it almost always ended with the cops shutting it down by sunrise. At least, they had last year. Iseult had been so drunk, she didn’t even remember how she’d gotten home that night.

“Are the Hell-Bards playing?” she asked, diverting her mind from racing off to memories she didn’t quite have the mental energy to duel with so early in the day. 

“I said it was going to be a classy affair. Classy.”

“So, no?”

“No.”

“Good. At least the soundtrack to the evening won’t suck.”

Safi’s face brightened. “So you’ll come?”

Iseult relinquished a nod. “Yeah, I’ll go. If only to watch Vaness skewer Leopold with one of her nails.”

Safi bellied a laugh as she pulled on her coat. “I think he rather enjoys it. One may say he encourages it.”

“You think?” Iseult asked, genuinely curious.

Safi shrugged, then paused. A dangerous smile crawled onto her lips. “Jealous?”

“I could ask the same to you,” Iseult volleyed back. “Don’t even try to deny that you’ve never thought about Vaness in that way.”

Safi feigned insult. “I wouldn’t dream of it! There isn’t a soul among us that hasn’t fallen under her spell.” She started to back away towards the door. “Are we still on for dinner tonight?”

“Yep! But hold on, I have a favor I need to ask.” 

Safi stopped her descent and took a couple calculated steps back towards the counter. “A favor?”

“A proposition,” Iseult amended, co-opting Safi’s earlier choice word. 

“If it’s for me to ditch class and run away to Marstok with you, then the answer is yes. You’ve never had a better idea.”

“I was wondering,” Iseult went on pointedly, “if you’d be willing to go to Ryber and Tanzi’s book club with me next month.”

“I already said I would.”

“You did? When?”

Realization burst across Safi’s face. “Oh that’s right! I told Ryber and Tanzi last week. When we had lunch together.”

Iseult felt the line between her brow form before she could stop it. “You had lunch together?”

“Yeah, last week. Tuesday, maybe? We ran into each other on the way to the dining commons and ended eating together. They’re really great. I like them a lot.”

“Yeah,” Iseult was barely able to say. The image of Safi, Ryber, and Tanzi sitting at the dining commons, laughing together, without her made the knot in her chest from earlier drop into her stomach and melt into something different entirely. “I like them too."

“When is it again?” Safi asked.

Iseult swallowed hard. “She said they meet the second Friday of every other month.”

Safi whipped out her phone and tapped the screen a couple times before her eyebrows bounced in surprise. “Oh. So, Valentine’s Day?”

“Oh. Um, I guess,” Iseult replied. She hadn’t known that. Not that it made a difference. She’d never had a date for Valentine’s Day, nor any other calendar day of the year for that matter. Nothing in the last month had indicated that this year would be any different. 

Iseult noted the small frown that appeared on Safi’s face as she looked down at her phone’s calendar for a moment too long before slipping it back into her coat pocket. With some effort, she smiled at Iseult. 

“That should work for me. Unless I get roped into a shift at the Cleaved Man. Lord knows Stix probably has eight dates lined up for the evening.” Safi bristled with a resentful huff. She caught Iseult’s eye.

“So… are we going to Marstok or not?”

* * *

Aeduan’s boots hit the concrete hard, his conversation with Evrane replaying over and over again in his head. He wished she hadn’t said anything. He wasn’t angry, but now that the idea was out there, he couldn’t stop thinking about it. A list was beginning to form with all the things he would do if he didn’t have to keep an eye on Owl every second of the day. Simple things, like going for a run in the evenings. Or taking a ride on his motorcycle when he needed to blow off steam. He missed the adrenaline, missed cutting through the air like nothing could hurt him. Maybe Evrane was right. Maybe Lisbet wasn’t too young to watch Owl. If not her, then who else could he trust with that responsibility? 

A whimper broke out behind Aeduan. He’d been, without even realizing it, walking much too fast for Owl. _Monster._ 10 minutes and he was already forgetting the child.

“Sorry,” he murmured, stopping and kneeling down to make sure she’d heard him. Passersby walked around them on the busy sidewalk. He adjusted Owl’s scarf. Her eyes rolled down to the concrete. 

_Avoidance_. She was avoiding him. 

Aeduan’s heart sank, all fantasies of his motorcycle whooshing out of his head. How much of his conversation with Evrane had she understood?

“What would you like to do this weekend?” he asked her, his big hands curled around her scarf. “I think it’s supposed to snow overnight tomorrow. Want to build another fort for Blueberry? The other one is almost all melted.”

Owl said nothing.

“Or maybe we could have a snowball fight with Cora and Lisbet. I bet we can take them.” 

Nothing.

Aeduan brought his forehead close to hers so that their noses were almost touching. “Maybe,” he whispered, drawing out the word, “we could make a decision over a muffin?”

Owl sour expression cracked. Relief flooded Aeduan’s heart when her black eyes made contact with his. 

Stopping at Jitters after a session with Evrane was becoming somewhat of a weekly tradition. More than once he’d been tempted to pay a visit on days when they didn’t have an appointment at the library. There was something comforting about starting off the morning with a fresh pastry and hot cup of coffee. Or maybe he’d mooched off of Owl’s bowl of Cheerios for his own breakfast one too many times. 

It wasn’t long before the bell above Jitters’ entrance door was jingling its welcome, but just as Aeduan stepped inside, he froze.

It wasn’t the grouchy barista from his first trip (though he had, unfortunately, seen her since then). No, it was Iseult behind the counter. Wearing an apron. Pouring coffee.

 _Iseult_.

Her round face shone like the moon, as much of her chin length hair as possible pulled back in a messy bun and a headband resting on top of her head. Wisps of stray hairs fell around her face and in her eyes as she wiped her hands on her apron and pulled out a pile of receipts from the front pocket. Aeduan had never seen her so relaxed. Or with so much color in her face. Cheeks rosy pink, like she’d just finished with the lunch rush. It softened her somehow. 

The bell hanging above Aeduan’s head stopped swaying and went silent. Waiting for the verdict. 

He could run. Turn around and leave and the girl would be none the wiser. He’d have to make up some excuse to Owl, but how hard would that be?

 _Idiot_ , he cursed himself. He was a former police officer. The son of Ragnor Amalej. What would his father say if he saw him running for the hills because of a simple librarian? His mother would have smiled. She would have told him again the story of another man who was kind and quiet. A man who had stumbled over words and given her no choice but to fall in love with him. 

That woke him up. He was _not_ his father. And he certainly did not - and would never - have feelings for this plain girl, this _librarian_. That thought was enough encouragement to get him through the door. 

Iseult’s head rose at the sound of the door slamming and the violent jangle of ringing that came with it. Her expression, so ordinarily cool and unreadable, popped with surprise at the sight of him. 

“Aeduan.” 

His name sounded breathless on her lips. Had he been paying attention to anything outside of her lovely, pale face, he would have felt the something it stirred inside him.

“I didn’t know you worked here,” remarked Aeduan matter-of-factly as he approached the counter. 

Iseult’s features smoothed back into place. “Yes. I work here and-” Her gaze fluttered up to the ceiling for a second, then back down. She brushed her hair out of her eyes, possibly a nervous tick. “And at the library.”

Aeduan nodded. She was staring at him thoughtfully. Expectantly. He was here for a reason, wasn’t he?

“I was at the library today.”

“You were?”

“Yes.” Aeduan paused, then thinking that perhaps he should say something else, continued. “I wanted to get the next book in the _My Father’s Dragon_ series… but you weren’t there.”

A small frown crinkled at the edge of Iseult’s eyes. “Was Hilga there? Or Rosa?”

“I-” Well, this was more than a little embarrassing. Good thing she didn’t know he was a former cop, top of his precinct, destined to make detective, and incapable of finding a book. 

“I didn’t have time to ask,” he lied. 

“Oh.” Such a small word. It carried the weight of thought that could not be read on her face. “I can look for it tomorrow.”

“You don’t have to-”

“It’s no trouble-”

“We’re only a couple chapters in-” 

“I really don’t mind,” Iseult insisted. She hesitated, then added, “I can give you a call and let you know whether or not it’s in.”

“Oh. Well...” Aeduan took a bracing breath and tore a napkin from the basket on top of the display case, then grabbed one of the pens from the chipped mug sitting next to the register acting as a pencil holder. He clicked the top of the pen with his thumb, bent over the counter, and started writing. When he was finished, he slid it across the counter to Iseult. 

“My number,” he explained.

Iseult peeled the napkin from the counter and held it up with both her hands. The way she held it made it look fragile, like it might break if she were to drop it. Her lips rolled inward, and for the first time since meeting her, she seemed to have trouble meeting his eyes.

“Thank you,” she finally said. Finally looking at him. “But I have your contact information at the library. From when you registered for a card.”

Aeduan could practically feel the inferno of embarrassment that ignited in his blood. He half-expected her to shove his number back to him or, _hell-gates_ , what if she crumpled it up and tossed it in the trash? But instead she surprised him: she folded the napkin carefully and slipped it into the front pocket of her apron.

“Is there anything else I can help you with?”

Aeduan swallowed. Once. Twice. Then shook his head. “No,” he muttered, his voice little more than a rasp. 

Iseult blinked. Confused. “You don’t want anything?”

“Want?” It took a moment for her meaning to penetrate his abnormally thick skull. “Right. Yes. Hot Coffee. Medium. And two blueberry lemon muffins.”

“To go?”

 _And away from this devastating conversation?_ “Yes.”

There would be no more attempt at conversing from his end. He was spent. While Iseult prepared his coffee, Aeduan busied himself with observing the cafe even though he’d seen it a dozen times before. It was emptier than usual. The same nondescript instrumental music played from the old stereo behind the counter. The only thing out of place was the smoldering mound of charred wood and ash in the fireplace. The normally popping fire seemed to have died and was in need of more wood.

“Do you want hazelnut?” 

Aeduan jerked his head over his shoulder. “Excuse me?”

“Do you want hazelnut with your coffee? I sometimes like to top mine off with it. It goes really well with this blend.”

Aeduan split his gaze between Iseult and the small jar of ground hazelnut in her hand. He wasn’t even sure why she was asking him, but without his permission, his mouth was forming a succinct ‘sure’ and he returned his attention back to the cafe. 

“ _Oh!_ ” 

Aeduan swung around at the sound of Iseult’s startled gasp. She wasn’t there.

Taking an urgent step forward, he braced his hands on the counter and craned his neck over the display case. “Iseult?”

“I-I’m alright,” a muffled voice came and a split-second later, she popped back up from behind the pastries. Color had blossomed on her cheeks, fanning out across the bridge of her nose. “S-she just startled me. That’s all.” 

Aeduan’s eyes narrowed. “Who?” he demanded. And then he noticed Iseult’s downturned gaze traveling to a place next to him. Oh. _Oh_. 

Owl was looking more red in the face than Iseult. It was alarming how much tension those two chubby cheeks could conjur. He knew this look. It was the same one she gave the car seat the moment before he would force her down in it and buckle her up. 

_Well, no time like the present._ They’d been to the library enough times that he supposed it was time for a proper introduction, so he scooped her up in his arms, then angled them both to face Iseult.

“Owl, this is Iseult.” _Iseult_. He’d never said her name out loud before. It poured like honey from his mouth. He licked his lips; it took him a moment to form more words. “She works with Evrane at the library. She’s the librarian who picked out all your books we’ve been reading together.” When Owl made no show of having understood a word he said, he tried to coax some reaction out of her with a gentle bounce on his hip and an encouraging, “Wasn’t that nice of her?”

Owl twisted her head and hid her face in the crook of Aeduan's neck. 

Well, it was a reaction. Just not the one he was hoping for. 

He shifted on his feet and forced himself to look at Iseult. “Sorry,” he apologized gruffly. “She’s… shy.” 

“That’s alright,” Iseult murmured, and Aeduan could have sworn he saw her lips harbor a small smile as she fidgeted with the strings of her apron. “I’m shy too.” Then, her lips quivered. “Is s-she... your daughter?”

 _No_. 

That’s what he was supposed to say. It was the truth, wasn’t it? Owl was nothing to him unless the adoption succeeded. Yet nothing had felt so wrong to him. 

_No_. 

The word stopped his heart. Sent his stomach to roil. 

“I would like her to be,” Aeduan heard himself admit. A slow rasp. Like something heavy being dragged over concrete. “I… I’m applying for adoption.”

Aeduan watched Iseult’s pupils dilate. The tremble in her lips quieted. Then: “That is admirable.” 

Aeduan exhaled. Warmth spread in his chest. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t even notice Iseult tapping the keys on her register. He barely understood what she was saying when she said, “Your total comes to $5.79.”

Numbly, Aeduan pulled out his wallet from his back pocket with one hand while his other arm was full of Owl. He managed to pull out several bills and handed them across the counter. When she handed him back his change, he dropped it into the tip mug next to the register. 

Owl seemed intent on staying hidden in his neck, so he did his best to pick up the bag of muffins and his coffee with one hand without dropping everything. The transaction was over, but Aeduan found himself staring at Iseult, her staring back at him, her hands folded over each other in front of her as though it was taking some effort not to fidget with her apron strings. It relaxed him somehow, seeing those delicate pearly white fingers locked together. She was nervous; he wasn’t alone. 

Aeduan's wrist rolled at his side. He sucked in a breath. “Do you-”

The bell jangled as the entrance door swung open and a stick figure of a boy came flying in.

“Sorry, sorry I know I’m late!”

He was a blur of gangly limbs and patchwork colored skin - some dark, some light - as he skidded to halt behind the counter, heaping apologies onto Iseult like his life depended on it. On and on it went and Aeduan just stood there, despite the fact that he had nothing to do with whatever this stranger was babbling about. In the midst of the boy’s mounting hysteria, his voice pitching higher as it went on, Iseult’s eyes slid to Aeduan’s, her expression as quiet as ever. Something passed between them, but Aeduan wasn’t sure what.

“It’s alright, Cam,” Iseult finally interjected over the boy’s apologies. Again, she glanced over at Aeduan. She looked like she wanted to say something. But for some reason, Aeduan spared her the chance. He forced a rough cough from his lungs and, giving her a brusque nod, spun away from her entirely and made a beeline to the cream and sugar station. Behind his back, the boy’s voice piped up again, and Aeduan heard the shuffle of feet and voices trailing away as though they were moving their conversation to the back. Iseult obviously had her hands full with an incompetent employee. There was no reason he had to trap her in another staring match that would inevitably go nowhere. 

_Those eyes._ Aeduan gritted his teeth as he uncovered his coffee thinking of them, how they had looked at him when she’d called him admirable. Him. Admirable. She had no right calling him that. She didn’t even know him.

Well, he reasoned, stirring cream into his coffee and watching the flecks of hazelnut Iseult added spin around and around and eventually become swallowed by the whirlpool, she hadn’t exactly called _him_ admirable. She was only commending what he was doing with Owl admirable. _Admirable_. That was one word for it. Or stupid. Impulsive. Completely insane and beyond his reach. 

The bells over the entrance door tinkled and Owl, who had been glued to his side for the last 5 minutes, stirred slightly in his arms, her tiny frame expanding and drooping with a sleepy sigh. 

Hell-gates, what _was_ he doing? Trying to adopt a kid? Who was he kidding? It didn’t matter who his father was or what family he came from or that Iseult thought it was admirable. He was still Aeduan Amalej. He may not wear the badge or carry a gun anymore, but he still had his reputation as the demon of his precinct who had given up his soul for the cause, for justice. That was something he couldn’t shed so easily. 

Aeduan popped the lid back on his coffee cup and his hand froze. Cold crawled across the back of his neck like a spider. It was only when a familiar voice spoke from behind him did he know why. 

“Well, well, if it isn’t my partner in justice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MEEP. A cliffhanger! Who do you think Aeduan's partner in justice is? 
> 
> Writing this was less of a struggle than usual - the part between Safi and Iseult especially. Their banter just flows out of me every time and it's IMMENSELY satisfying. Not that I need to add more WIPs to my ready-to-burst desktop folder, but I *may* start writing short drabbles involving the rest of the cast or explore the possibility of taking writing prompts (EEK scary!) because I really want to write about characters that aren't the main players, like Merik or the Hell-Bards. Who would you like to read more about?
> 
> Of course, thank you for reading! I hope everyone is taking care of themselves during these strange and unprecedented times. How have you all be coping? I've been shamelessly rereading The Witchlands for the billionth time and playing Skyrim.
> 
> Sending happy thoughts to you all. <3
> 
> Follow me on tumblr: @eilonwiiy


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Aeduan’s old partner shows up, he is confronted with a shocking piece of news. Meanwhile, Iseult learns that not talking is just as hard as talking.

“You surprise me, _partner_.” 

Aeduan’s jaw ticced. He didn’t need to look to know who was behind him.

“Never did hear where you ended up. Not that I asked.”

Slowly, Aeduan turned to face Lizl. She hadn’t changed since he left the force. Her dark hair was pulled in a single tight braid, not a hair out of place, leaving her amber brown face bare. Her badge gleamed against her policeman’s uniform, shiny, like she’d polished it the night before. Aeduan knew that she did. They’d been partners, after all.

As tall as Aeduan was, Lizl was taller. He rolled his gaze upward, expression flat. She was grinning smugly at him, like she’d caught him in a more nefarious act than buying coffee. 

“What, no hug?” she asked innocently.

Aeduan didn’t react. “What do you want, Lizl?”

“A cup of coffee.” She folded her arms across her chest. Her posture was deceptive in its casualness. In the 14 years he’d known Lizl, he’d come to know that there wasn’t a relaxed bone in her body. “Turns out this place runs a good bargain.” She gestured to him. “Free refills and a floorshow.”

Lizl’s gaze fell to Owl in his arm and Aeduan watched her expression soften. She may have hated Aeduan’s guts, but there were lines she wouldn’t cross. She wouldn’t pull any shots in front of a child. She held herself to a strict moral code that wasn’t just reserved for convicts. It was one of the things Aeduan respected most about her. 

That didn’t mean he had to like her, though. 

Aeduan glanced over at the coffee counter. Iseult hadn’t come back yet and some of the tension he’d been holding since Lizl’s surprise appearance loosened. That kid was probably still talking her ear off and for that, he was grateful - even if that did mean she was suffering. He didn’t want her to see him with a cop. For some reason, he cared about what she would think. He didn’t know why, but he did.

“What do you want, Lizl?” he demanded again more firmly. 

“Nothing. You’re about the last person I’d ever want to run into,” she answered, a little of her casual exterior slipping. There was a hint of sourness in her tone. Her jaw clenched and unclenched with her lips pressed firmly shut as they stared at each other. 

“So,” she finally said. “Is it everything you hoped it’d be?”

“Is what everything I’d hoped it would be?” Aeduan asked, more bored than curious. 

“Life without the badge.” Lizl paused. “Or your daddy’s leash.”

So much for that strict moral code.

Aeduan swiped his coffee cup off the counter and, without so much as a glance at Lizl, marched to the door and left the cafe. There were lines Aeduan wouldn’t cross in front of Owl too. If he’d stayed, he might forget that. Besides, he didn’t owe her anything. If anything, he’d done her a favor by walking away - from the police force and right now.

It didn’t take long for the bells above the door to Jitters to jingle again.

“I just don’t get it,” Lizl voice knifed through the cold. It had started to flurry. “That job was your life. You were in your dad’s pocket. Set to make detective. Become head of the department when Bastien retired. Why throw it all away?”

“Why do you care?” Aeduan snarled, pivoting and getting right up in her face. He kept his voice low, not wanting to wake Owl. 

Lizl frowned, not the least bit phased by him invading her personal space. “I don’t care. I’m just- confused. You could have had everything.”

“And with me out of the way _you_ can have everything. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? Make detective, have a shot at the promotion.” Lizl only stared stonily at him and Aeduan shook his head, expelling some of his frustration and replacing it with exasperation. “I don’t know why you're angry at me. We were never friends.”

Lizl nodded. “Just partners.”

“Exactly. So what is the problem? I thought you’d be happy that I left.”

A bitter laugh burst from Lizl’s mouth. “Happy?” She shook her head at the ground and dug her boot heel into the concrete, leaving little half moons in the thin layer of snow coating the sidewalk. She buried her hands in the pockets of her leather jacket. She seemed to be weighing her options - over what Aeduan had no idea. He just watched, waiting. When Lizl looked up, she was grinning, but there was no amusement in it. 

“You have no idea, do you?”

Aeduan’s insides went cold. “What are you talking about?”

Lizl looked off to the side. Something had shifted. The hostility was gone. She just shook her head like she couldn’t get over whatever it was she was about to say. Eventually, she looked him dead in the eye. 

“I didn’t make detective.”

A line wedged itself between Aeduan’s eyebrows. He didn’t know what he had expected her to say, but he hadn’t expected _that_. With or without Aeduan in her way, Lizl was a shoe-in for the job, a star cadet all throughout their time at the academy, second only to Aeduan. No one worked harder than she did. Her not making detective was… inconceivable. 

For the first time in months, Aeduan felt the heady rush of a facing puzzle itching to be solved. There had to be some ulterior motive on the line here. She wasn’t giving him the full picture. 

“And I didn’t get the promotion.”

Aeduan’s spine straightened. He didn’t like the way Lizl was looking at him. She was still wearing that awful smile that wasn’t a smile. It set his nerves on edge. 

“Would you like to know who your father picked for the job?”

Aeduan found himself tensing, bracing for the answer without asking to be told. 

“Natan fon Leid.” 

_Natan fon Leid._ It took a whole 5 seconds for the name to sink in. He’d grown into quite the impressive egotistical prick, having been a bully all of Aeduan’s childhood. He’d never really understood how or why the jerk was stationed in the Domestic Violence Unit. He wasn’t exactly a drain on the department, but as far as he could tell, there wasn’t an altruistic bone in Natan’s body. The thought of him running the DVU was unsettling to say the least.

And complete bullshit. 

“My father,” Aeduan said, doing nothing to keep the venom out of his voice, “would never replace Bastien with Natan fon Leid. Bastien was a man of honor. Integrity. Natan is nothing more than a power hungry lapdog.”

“I agree,” Lizl responded without blinking an eye. “And now he’s your father’s lapdog.”

Aeduan’s chest puffed out. He hated the way his blood boiled at even the slightest mention of his father, even though they weren’t speaking - even though he had every right to despise him. He still couldn’t temper the urge to come to his defense. And that angered him even more - maybe more than anything Lizl had to say. 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he ground out coldly. There wasn’t much else he could do with Owl curled into his chest. 

“Ask him,” Lizl simply replied, ununciating each word crisp and cool. It sounded more like a challenge than a suggestion. 

He’d do no such thing. 

Aeduan had never been crazy enough to carry around some fancy notion that being partners had meant anything to Lizl. She’d never liked him. Hated him, even. But they’d worked alongside each other for years and never let their personal feelings get in the way of justice. 

The snow was coming down in earnest now. Owl stirred in Aeduan’s arm breaking the tension for them. Lizl’s expression went blank and after a couple seconds of grudging deliberation, she gestured resignedly to her squad car parked by the sidewalk.

“Do you want a ride?” she asked. She sounded tired, like she already knew the answer.

Aeduan didn’t reply. He didn’t say goodbye. He just turned away from Lizl and left her standing on the sidewalk. There was nothing left to say. Not to her, at least. 

* * *

The new Fiona Apple album thrumming through Iseult's earbuds was doing nothing to cover up the lively debate going on in her head. 

For what felt like the first time in forever, Iseult wasn’t working in the Children’s Room, but rather shelving books upstairs as she once used to. She should have been relieved. She could finally have a quiet evening without the stress of worrying about patrons coming up to her with questions or children unexpectedly popping up between bookshelves. 

But she wasn’t relaxed. She _couldn’t_ relax, in fact. No, instead, she was torturing herself over whether or not to call Aeduan.

Leave it to her to let a complete stranger ruin her evening of peace. She still carried his phone number from their encounter at Jitters yesterday in the safety of her pocket, and even though the first thing she'd done when she got to work was find his book, she had yet to get in touch with him. 

She’d said she would, so she should. But with each hour that passed, it was growing more and more late, and the window of opportunity to call was getting smaller by the second. Surely Aeduan would still be up. But as the clock approached 9, she found herself wishing she had mustered the courage to call him during the day when it was still light outside.

For Iseult, nighttime meant winding down. Eating leftover Arithuanian takeout right out of the carton in her monkey slippers and fuzzy bathrobe. Curling up with a book and falling asleep mid-paragraph with the light on. 

But this was Veñaza City and she was some weird anomaly. While she was nose-deep in Joan Didion, some twenty-something year old was taking their third shot of the evening before heading out to a party. While she was setting her phone alarm for 6 a.m., someone was texting their hook-up. While her and Safi fought over who got to take a shower first in the morning, someone was getting thrown out of a bar.

Veñaza was a college town and it was no secret to Iseult that she was living a much less thrilling life than her former peers. While normally that wouldn’t bother her (why submit herself to the experience of doing jello shots when the option to eat a jello cup and not throw up was right there?), wondering if Aeduan shared her nightime habits made her feel self-conscious. He may have had a kid, but that didn’t make him a monk.

She thought about what it would be like dialing his number and him picking up, his voice deep and rough sounding on the other end of the phone. A shiver ran through her. Then nausea. 

She couldn’t do it. 

Late night phone calls were reserved for hook-ups or emergencies. Not librarians.

She sighed. She was left with two choices: 

She could call first thing in the morning. While she had just spent the last hour wondering what Aeduan did at night, this option brought with it another dilemma: how Aeduan spent his mornings. Iseult didn’t know why, but he seemed like the type of guy to start his day early. Down a glass of orange juice, go for a jog around the neighborhood, and be showered and dressed by 7:30 kind of guy. 

Iseult shook her head. She really didn’t need to be fantasizing about his morning routine. And she definitely didn’t need to think about him showering. Nope. She definitely wasn’t thinking about him naked and dripping with water.

 _Stasis_ , Iseult. _Stasis_. 

Then there was the more tempting and pathetic option: she could scrap calling him altogether. And what great loss would that be really? she thought to herself. It wasn’t like he was sitting by the phone waiting for her call. He probably didn’t even remember asking for the book or giving her his number in the first place. Her stomach dropped at the thought.

She was overthinking this. Big time. 

She rolled back to their conversation yesterday and how Cam had interrupted them. She was sure that Aeduan had been about to ask her something just as Cam burst through the door. She didn't hold it against the kid, but she was dying to know what Aeduan was going to say. And then, of course, there was the mystery of the cop. She'd seen them talking outside. By the looks of it, it wasn't a friendly chat. It had ended with Aeduan storming off and the woman cop looking troubled. 

Iseult slipped a hand into her pocket and dug out the napkin with Aeduan’s phone number. She unfolded it and looked it over, just as she had the dozen or so times since he’d given it to her. By now she’d memorized the 12 neat letters strung together in broken cursive underneath the number. _Aeduan Amalej._

A pulled in a shaky breath and retrieved her phone next. For a paralyzing moment, she held them out in front of her, the number in one hand and her phone in the other. Thinking. Stalling. 

“Moon Mother, you are such an idiot,” she muttered to herself before unlocking her phone - her hand shaking with nerves - and punched in Aeduan’s number.

Right into a new text message.

Ok, so she’d told him he’d call him. But this way she didn’t need to find out just how devastating her stutter be over the phone. With her sanity hanging in the balance, copping out of calling was of little consequence. There were way more pathetic things she’d done in her 21 years of living. This wouldn’t be a highlight in her memoirs. 

With that in mind, she got to it and prayed that she typed faster than her determination could devolve into an entirely new spiral about whether or not a text was too casual. 

* * *

Aeduan knew he was in trouble the moment he opened the book. 

**Chapter One**

**_My Father Meets the Cat_ **

Owl’s eyes had widened as Adeuan read the words and she’d peered up at him from her place under his arm nestled into his side. 

It had taken every bit of restraint he had to keep his expression neutral. The librarian just had to pick a book that featured a stray cat. 

Iseult had been right though: Owl _loved_ the book. Every night for the last week, Owl would crawl into his bed, make her nest, and sit there, impatiently waiting for him to finish meditating and running through his nightly stretches. He made sure to take his time; he wasn’t about to teach Owl that she could get anything she wanted just by giving him those sad puppy eyes of hers. He'd had plenty of practice resisting those eyes with Cora, who as a little more needy than Lisbet; Owl was powerless over him. Most of the time.

Meditation was an important, albeit unexpected, part of Aeduan’s life. It was the one lesson from Evrane that actually stuck. Sometimes he wondered why, out of everything, this one practice never wavered. Over the years, it had become more than a ritual in calming the body and quieting the mind. It had become his anchor. Something he depended on. Somewhere along the way, he’d learned that how he started and ended his day was the one thing he had true control over. He'd been taught early in life that there was no prelude to change. If he could hold on to this one thing, he would. 

Luckily for Owl, he was done with meditating for tonight. Even with his years of practice, he hadn’t found much solace in it. He couldn’t get what Lizl told him yesterday out of his head.

He had told himself to forget about it the moment he’d walked away. That the police department wasn’t his problem anymore. He’d left for a reason, and even if he tried to convince himself that it was all because of Owl, he knew deep down that that wasn’t true.

Storming away from Lizl had felt good. Right. But now…

Doubt plagued his every thought. He couldn’t shake it off. This feeling that Lizl was telling the truth. They’d never liked each other, but he knew that - just like him - she respected him enough to trust him on the job. He saw it in the moments that mattered most. She was one of the good ones. 

And the fact remained that Lizl wasn’t a manipulator. It wasn’t in her nature. Why bother with mind games when honesty landed harder? There really wasn’t any reason for her to lie to him. So that meant what she’d told him was the truth.

But _why_? Why would his father give Natan the job? He was an unmitigated piece of shit and Ragnor had always shown very little tolerance for unmitigated pieces of shit. If his father had promoted Natan to the top spot, then he had a reason. A good one. 

He should just forget it, he told himself for the hundredth time. 

For the next half hour, Aeduan found his mind wandering, even as he read aloud, and it was some time before he realized that Owl had drifted off to sleep. 

He sighed, letting his head drop against the headboard, and the book propped up in his hand fell closed against the comforter with a soft _thwump_. He stared at the opposite wall, knowing he should transfer Owl to her own bed before it got any later, but he couldn’t find the motivation to move. 

_Lizl. Ragnor. Natan._ Their names were an endless chant in his head. A chant that rang of doubt and the promise of another sleepless night for Aeduan. 

There was only one way to put an end to the madness. He’d need to go directly to the source: his father. 

The thought alone was enough to make Aeduan want to slide down his mattress and pull the covers over his head. He didn’t, of course. But the impulse was there, as embarrassing as that was. 

It’d been 3 long months since he’d last seen his father. 3 months since he’d marched into his office, left his gun and badge on his desk, and walked out of his life. Ragnor hadn’t even tried to get in touch with him since. Aeduan hadn’t expected him to.

He didn’t know how he felt about that. Hurt, probably. His father’s silence was louder than most. But Aeduan was the last bit of Dysi left on this earth. Had it been easy for his father to let go of his only son? He’d done that with everything else that reminded him of Dysi after she’d passed, so why not him too? 

Pressure pounded behind Aeduan’s eyes. His head ached. Not getting more than an hour or two of sleep the night before must have been catching up to him. Maybe he’d just let Owl stay in his bed. If he were being honest with himself, he didn’t want to be alone right now.

A soft chime broke the silence in the bedroom. Curious, Aeduan turned to his nightstand where the sound had come from. His phone softly glowed with activity and he could see the animated little envelope on the screen that meant he had a new text message. Careful not to disturb Owl, he reached for the phone and grabbed it from the stand. He settled back against his pillows, expecting to see something from Lisbet, the only person he had the patience to text with - even if she did bombard him with memes he didn’t understand. Before even opening the message, he was all ready to tell her to get off her phone and go to bed. 

But it wasn’t Lis. 

It was an unknown number. He frowned. But then he read the message, and he realized who it was. His heart stopped.

Unknown Number – 9:07 PM 

>> _I found the book you wanted. I put it on hold for you. You can come pick it up anytime._

>> _(Hi. This is Iseult from the library.)_

Without even realizing it, the noise in Aeduan’s head faded to nothing. Iseult had said she’d let him know about the book, but he was still surprised to hear from her. And - he thought, checking the time - so late. 

He reread the message a couple more times before clicking the screen off. He was about to return his phone to the nightstand when he paused. 

He should probably respond with… something.

Aeduan pulled his hand back, easing back on to his pillows, and opened the message. His thumbs hovered over the keyboard, trying to think of something to say. His eyes flicked to Owl, dead asleep next to him, then he began typing. 

Aeduan - 9:18 PM

>> _Ok._

Well. Ok then. Obligation fulfilled. 

Aeduan took off his reading glasses and stowed them along with his phone on his nightstand before he switched off the lamp, plunging the room in darkness. He settled beneath his covers and rested his head on his pillow. He felt the ball of warmth that was Owl curled up beside him. Moonlight streamed in from the windows, and for a few quiet minutes, he watched the snow falling outside.

An hour later, Aeduan rolled over and reached for the phone on his nightstand. 

Aeduan - 10:16 PM

>> _I’ll come by tomorrow and pick it up._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YES I GAVE AEDUAN READING GLASSES BECAUSE HOW FREAKING CUTE WOULD THAT BE?!??!?
> 
> I know I don't need to apologize, but I am so sorry this took way longer to update than normal. My precious rabbit had to be put to sleep at the beginning of May and even though she was an old broad, it was very sad and put me in a funk for the rest of the month. I hope an appearance made by Lizl makes up for it. <3
> 
> Also, I wrote a Safi/Merik one-shot called "Though Lovers Be Lost". MEEP. Check it out if you ever feel so inclined. I'm actually pretty proud of it.
> 
> How's everyone feeling these days? I've finally gotten into a routine (even if some days are derailed by bad mental health). I've finally been able to do some reading. Right now I'm juggling several books: With a Twist, a romantic comedy by Staci Hart; Quintana of Charyn, the final book in the Lumatere Chronicles by Melina Marchetta (EVERYONE needs to read this series! It's effing incredible!); Talking As Fast As I Can, a memoir by Gilmore Girls' Lauren Graham (my sister and I just finished our GG rewatch and I've had this collecting dust on my shelf forEVER).
> 
> What's everyone else reading? I'd love to hear what books you're picking up during quarantine!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An innocent trip to the library takes an unexpected turn.
> 
> A super long chapter for you guys. Thank you for all the comments on the previous chapter and on Though Lovers Be Lost. I have not forgotten to respond. Just busy. :)

When Iseult woke up the next morning, she thought maybe she had dreamed the previous night. But no. Aeduan had texted her. Twice. First, with an all too unsatisfying _Ok_ while she was still at work. Then, again a whole hour later as she was getting ready for bed telling her that he’d be coming to the library tomorrow. Which was now today. The gap between texts - the “lost hour” as Iseult was now referring to it - was doing an exemplary job of keeping her busy. She thought about it all through her shower. While brushing her teeth. There was a brief pause while she picked out an outfit (sweater, suede skirt, ballet flats), but then it was right back to obsessing over those missing 60 minutes. 

What had happened to cause Aeduan to go from monosyllabic man to someone with a firm grasp of the English language? Had it been a full moon?

The ruckus of the usual morning hustle and bustle could be heard from Jitters as Iseult descended the stairs, coat already on and a messenger bag slung over her shoulder. When she brushed through the divider curtain, the sight that met her brought her to a full stop.

“Wow. Someone woke up in project mode,” she said, taking in Safi - awake and fully dressed on her morning off - and the stacks of books and magazines spread across multiple tables pushed together.

“Yes,” Safi agreed, looking proud. “I thought I’d finally try turning that weird corner no one likes to sit in into that book nook we’ve always talked about.” 

“Seriously?” 

“Seriously.”

Iseult stared at Safi, expression flat. 

“Safi?”

“Hm?” she replied, flipping breezily through a page in her magazine.

“What are you doing?”

Safi didn’t look up. “I told you. I’m making the book nook.”

“Yeah, I heard you the first time. But see, it’s 8:30 in the morning.”

“And?”

“And,” Iseult continued, slowly approaching her mini fortress of books, “there’s a perfectly useful bed upstairs wondering where you are.” 

“Well, tell it it might get lucky and see me tonight.”

“Safi,” Iseult said bluntly. 

“Yeah?”

“What are you doing? And if you say ‘book nook’ one more time I’ll kill you.”

Safi said nothing.

“Spill,” Iseult ordered.

Safi sighed and made a face. “Is it so hard to believe that I actually wanted to do a good thing and get moving on this project that you’ve been talking my ear off about for months?”

“It is when it’s 8:30 on your morning off.” Iseult eyed the nearly full mug of coffee on the table. “Is that your first cup of coffee?”

“Maybe.” Safi’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Why?” 

“Nothing. Just a concerned citizen, that’s all.” Iseult pulled up a chair and lowered herself onto the seat, clapping her hands on her knees. “Look, as tempting as the prospect of playing 20 Questions with you this early in the morning without caffeine in my system is, can we maybe skip to the end of this conversation where you tell me the truth about why you’re really up so I’m not late for work?”

Safi pursed her lips like she didn’t want to talk. Then, she grabbed a massive tome off the top of one of the piles and held it up in the air. 

“I tripped over this.”

“Ok…” Iseult said slowly, eyeing the book. “Are you okay?”

“Physically, yes. Spiritually? That remains to be seen.”

Iseult sighed. “Safi, did you miss the part where I said I don’t want to be late for work?”

Safi let the book drop from her hand with an obnoxious _thud_ that shook the table. 

“As you know, I worked until close at The Cleaved Man last night. When I got home at 1 o’clock, per usual, I tripped and fell over this,” she said, giving the offending book a scathing look. 

The smallest of frowns formed on Iseult’s otherwise smooth face. “How is that even possible? That’s my freshmen geology textbook. I’m not exactly reading up on pyrite in my spare time.”

“Oh, well, I knocked into the bookshelf while I was fumbling through the dark trying to find the light switch.” 

“So really you tripped over the bookshelf.”

Safi gawped at Iseult. “You’re not taking this seriously.”

“I would if I knew what the heck this has to do with you waking up and deciding today’s the day you’re going to be a carpenter!” 

“That apartment is too small!” Safi burst, gesticulating wildly to the ceiling above.

“Safi,” shushed Iseult, glancing around at the early bird customers who were now looking curiously at them.

“No! That place is too small and I’m so tired of barely having enough room to breathe let alone walk through the door without having to map out some sort of detour route to avoid collision!” She shook her head. “The books had to go!”

Iseult grabbed for Safi’s hand before she could point a rude gesture at the ceiling and covered it with her own. “Look I know we got our hopes up for _the_ apartment,” Iseult said, careful to leave out Chiseled Cheater’s name or supervillain moniker, “but you need to let this go.”

“I don’t want to,” pouted Safi, pronouncing each word defiantly. 

“I know. But you’re driving yourself crazy and me by extension.” She paused. “Our shoebox does have its perks.”

“Like?” The word dripped with incredulity.

“Like,” Iseult ventured, “we don’t have to walk far to get to work. We can even open the bakery in our pajamas.” 

Safi’s face remained unchanging. Iseult went on.

“We don’t have to deal with some seedy landlord.” 

Nothing. 

“Late snacks are a flight of stairs away.”

Still nothing. 

“And there’s always an endless supply of free coffee on hand.”

“Except for that time we forgot to place the order and we went a whole three days having to tell customers we didn’t have coffee,” Safi pointed out.

Iseult shuddered from the memory. “I thought Mathew and Habim were going to kick us out.” 

“Maybe they’d have done us a favor if they had,” Safi muttered.

Iseult made a face at her and, for a moment, they held each other’s gaze. Then, finally, she folded.

“I’m sorry,” Safi moaned, flopping back in her chair and looking at the stacks of books dejectedly. “It just kills me that _he’s_ living in our dream apartment while we’re stuck smelling like coffee for the rest of our lives.”

“It won’t be for the rest of our lives. And besides,” Iseult added as an afterthought, “think of how much money we save living here. I doubt I would have been able to afford that place now anyway.”

From the way Safi immediately sobered, Iseult knew she had driven the point home. After all, it wasn’t Safi who couldn’t afford to live wherever she wanted. She could leave their shoebox apartment anytime she wanted. But she stayed for Iseult. 

Iseult fiddled with her hands and dropped her gaze, not wanting to look at the somber expression on Safi’s face. She almost looked ashamed. 

“I’m sorry,” Safi apologized again. She waved to the piles of books. “Obviously, I lost my mind.”

“Does this mean you’re not going to build the book nook?”

Safi’s expression stiffened and Iseult saw a flicker of hesitation in her eyes. 

“No, I’m going to do it,” she eventually said, sounding resigned to the prospect, but determined. “You’ve been bugging me about it long enough.” 

“You said you liked the idea!”

“Yeah, but that was before I ordered those damned bookshelves,” argued Safi, nodding to the back office. “Honestly, those assembly instructions are in a different language. How can they expect the average person to put them together without a contractor?”

“Or an interpreter.”

“Exactly. It’s all a bunch of gibberish made to con you into hiring a professional to assemble it for you. It’s a money making scam.” 

They sat in silence for a moment, Safi stewing. Iseult side-eyed Safi. She didn’t want to break the happy truce they had just struck, but... 

“You know who would be great at putting together those shelves?” she asked. “The C-word.”

Safi gave a most unlady-like snort of disbelief. “Cam can barely hold an entire tray of cookies without toppling over let alone a plank of wood.” 

“I’m not talking about Cam and you know it.”

Safi shot her a piercing look. “I am not calling Caden.” She paused. “I’ll call Leopold.”

“For what?” Iseult laughed. “Moral support?”

“Hey, your boyfriend’s more handy than you think.”

Iseult’s stomach flipped. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

Safi rolled her eyes in exasperation. “You’re right. He’s not, but he could be! If you would stop avoiding him.”

Iseult’s stomach vaulted again, but this time for an entirely different reason. “Did he say that?” she asked, not sure if she wanted to know the answer.

“That you’re avoiding him? No, but I can tell by the way he asks about you.” Safi studied Iseult for a moment. “Do you like him?”

“I…” Iseult didn't know what to say. She didn’t know what she felt. While she had spent a good deal of time telling herself that Leopold’s flirtatious advances towards her were a figment of her imagination - I mean, _look_ at the guy. He basically waltzed right out of a Disney movie - she knew in her gut that they were real. She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t thought about what it would be like to date him. To _kiss_ him. Would she burst into a puff of smoke when his lips touched hers and reappear a beautiful princess? It all seemed so ridiculous to her. They were like night and day. But even so, there was no denying that they shared a bond. She trusted him. With him, she felt safe.

With that thought in mind, she ended lamely, “I don’t know.”

Safi nodded, eyes soft and understanding. “That’s fair… Maybe seeing him tonight will help,” she said encouragingly. 

Right. Tonight. Vaness’ little shindig. Iseult hadn’t exactly been crossing off the days on her calendar in anticipation. 

Safi’s face went serious again. She hesitated. “Hey, so Alma called while you were in the shower.”

 _Shit_. “She did?” Iseult asked, trying to keep her voice light. It wasn’t like this was the third time Alma had called this week and she hadn’t gotten back to her or anything. 

“Yeah. I picked up…” said Safi, sounding apologetic. “I figured it could be about something important.” 

“I’m assuming if you’re just telling me now that it wasn’t?”

Safi shook her head. “No. Just asked if you could call her back.”

“Ok… Thanks. I will.” Iseult swallowed the lie and let her eyes wander to the mess around them. “I take it this means you’re not reading the book for the book club?” She picked up a copy of _Sisters of Sight_ from the top of one of the nearby stacks. 

“No,” Safi was quick to say, snatching the book away from Iseult and holding it to her chest possessively. “I added that to the pile by mistake.”

“Of course,” Iseult said without much confidence. Sierra, one of the baristas working the morning shift, came over and offered a steaming to-go cup of coffee and a paper bag that, judging by the heavenly smell, was her favorite cinnamon crunch bagel.

“Such service” she commended, taking them from Sierra and thanking her.

“This place ain’t half-bad,” Safi chimed in, watching with approval.

“Not half-bad at all,” Iseult agreed, then took a sip of her coffee. She made a face as she swallowed. “Well, the coffee definitely falls into the half-bad category. Real Marstoki coffee my you-know-what,” she grumbled under her breath. 

“You can say ‘ass’ in front of me,” Safi goaded, smirking. “I won’t tell anyone.”

Iseult shook her head and stood up from her chair. She was officially running late now. “Well, thank you for an eventful morning. Your neuroses never fail to entertain. I’m only working a half-shift, so I’ll be back this afternoon. Try to be nice to Cam before I get here,” she added with what she hoped was a convincingly stern look. 

“Remind me again why we hired him?” Safi asked, crossing her arms and leaning back in her chair.

“Because we’re all about helping the little guy,” answered Iseult as she wrapped her scarf around her neck.

“I didn’t realize we meant that literally.”

“You know what I mean.”

“You broke our no high schoolers policy. I _hate_ high schoolers.” 

“Cam’s different.”

“He has no work experience.”

“Everyone has to get their start somewhere. We didn’t exactly have much work experience when Mathew and Habim hired us. Besides,” Iseult added, looking around and gesturing to the cafe, “this isn’t exactly a high-stakes operation. I think Cam can handle pouring coffee. Just be patient. Not everyone learns at the same pace.” She tugged on her beret cap and picked up her coffee and bagel. “Well, I can’t wait to see you and the book nook when I get back.” 

Safi’s face tightened and her smile froze in place. “Me too,” she said as one of the book piles toppled over. “Me too…”

* * *

Aeduan was not having a good morning. 

The news that they would be making a trip to the library that day was not received with warm reception from the four-year-old. At first, Owl just frowned, not understanding why they were going if they weren’t going to see Evrane. The concept of the library existing even when they weren’t there was a shock to Owl - an unpleasant one judging by the horrified look on her face - and Aeduan did his best to explain that the library was open to more than just the two of them, and that they were welcome to visit any time they wished, even when they weren’t meeting with Evrane. He thought this would clear up the matter and put to rest Owl’s apparently _very_ serious concerns about the library. He was so incredibly wrong.

Owl had been possessed by the devil - Aeduan was sure of it. 

The nightmare started with her bath. Aeduan could have skipped his shower if he had known how wet Owl would get him with all her thrashing, suddenly violently adverse to water. By the end of it, there was more water on him than in the tub. He’d had to change - but only after he managed to wrangle Owl into her own clothes (another Olympic feat). At breakfast, she threw her Cheerios on the floor and the moment Aeduan finished picking up every last _O_ , she spilled her orange juice. By the time they left the house, Aeduan was so preoccupied with Owl squirming in his arms, he didn’t notice Blueberry sauntering across the porch and he tripped over the damned thing, sending himself - and Owl - toppling into a snow pile. She’d started sobbing then. Not for herself or for Aeduan, whose hip was throbbing in pain. No, no, no. She was upset that _he_ may have hurt the _cat_. It took 20 minutes for him to assure her that Blueberry was ok, _another_ 20 minutes searching for the little cretin when it became clear she needed physical proof of the fact (he was hiding under the porch wedged behind the recycling bin), and by the time her sobs had turned into sniffles, he was so discombobulated that he didn’t even bother to go back inside and change out of his now soaking wet pants. Again. He was too worried he’d never get Owl out of the house again if he did. He wasn’t taking any chances. He skipped the car altogether, even though it had just snowed and the sidewalks probably weren’t all cleared yet. Barring performing an exorcism, getting Owl to sit still long enough for him to fasten her into her carseat seemed inconceivable and - with his ears still ringing with her last screaming meltdown - he wasn’t looking for an encore. 

Owl was deathly quiet by the time they reached the library. Maybe she had run out of tears. Aeduan certainly hoped so. He wasn’t sure what he’d do if Owl fell apart while they were inside the building. Possibly breakdown and cry himself. Evrane would love that.

 _Shit_. Evrane. In all the chaos, Aeduan hadn’t even thought about what he’d say if they happened to run into her. He hastily ran through some quick excuses in his head while he crossed the library’s main hall, eyes darting around the open space for a splash of white hair and listening for the tell-tale sound of clattering of silver… which was precisely the moment he ran into Iseult. Or rather, Iseult’s book cart.

The cart went toppling over, taking Iseult along with it, and crashed to the floor with a bone-rattling _BOOM_. The sound echoed unforgivingly through the voluminous hall. Aeduan stared at Iseult sprawled out on the floor covered in books, stunned, then snapped into action. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, hastily depositing Owl on the ground and kneeling down beside Iseult. She looked shocked, eyes frozen wide, like she didn’t know how she had ended up on the floor. He hastily began pulling books off her.

“You should be more careful,” Aeduan admonished gruffly. He gathered and stacked the fly-away books into a pile off to the side while Iseult just sat there, silent. Annoyed, he opened his mouth again when he picked up a tattered volume off her leg. 

His movement stuttered and his eyes locked on a jagged rip in her tights. The pale skin shone like a tear in the night sky. He swallowed thickly and he tore his eyes away. 

“Someone could have gotten hurt.” He got up, leaving Iseult on the floor, and walked over the fallen cart. He pulled it upright, the wood groaning with the motion. He braced his hands on either end and gave it a firm jostle. It seemed sturdy enough, despite its obvious wear. Satisfied that it was safe, he started transferring the books back on its shelves. 

A strange sort of hiccup from behind him caused Aeduan’s head to snap up. He’d had enough tears that morning. This whole day could fuck off into the void if Iseult was going to start crying too. He jerked around, not sure what he would do if he saw a single tear on her face, then stared. 

Iseult was laughing. He’d never heard her laugh. Or truly seen her smile. It transformed her whole face that was always so emotionless. Even as confusion shot through him, he couldn’t help but appreciate the sight. 

He offered a hand to her.

“Are you alright?” The question came out more reserved this time. Less like an accusation.

Iseult nodded, her soft laughter fading to nothing, and accepted his help. Her hand was cold against his. She let go when she was back on her feet and offered him a small smile in appreciation. 

Aeduan pointed to the tear at her knee, if only to distract himself from the feeling she’d left in his empty hand. “That looks like it hurts.” 

Iseult ducked her head and gave her leg a quick once-over. Aeduan found himself looking too, but when his gaze began to roam to other places, he quickly looked away. 

“N-no, it’s fine,” Iseult stammered. “I’m just out a pair of tights.” 

Aeduan frowned, not sure what to say to that. Iseult bit the inside of her cheek and shrugged. “I-I have a hundred pairs, so it’s f-fine.”

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Aeduan asked for a third time. The tremble in her voice was making him uneasy. 

“Mhmm,” was all she responded with, nodding her head. She fidgeted with the cuffs of her sweater. “I’m sorry I almost ran you two over.”

 _Two?_ Oh, right! Owl. 

Aeduan looked down at Owl next to him. The look she was giving them was downright murderous, if that was possible. Owl had proven on more than one occasion that she was capable of extraordinary things - even if she was only four.

“You didn’t,” Aeduan replied, looking away from her and back at Iseult. “I should have been paying attention. I’m sorry.” He didn’t know where the words were coming from, but they were out of his mouth before he could give them any thought. They seemed to be the right thing to say, though, because Iseult’s face relaxed and he thought he caught a faint smile.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she said, looking up at him shyly.

Aeduan swallowed, heart stuck in his throat. “You… are?”

“Mmm,” Iseult confirmed. She wet her lips, the pink tip of her tongue darting out and capturing Aeduan’s attention fully and wholly. “I was just about to drop these off and get my things to go. I have your book. One of the other librarians would have been able to get it for you, but…” She trailed off, ducking her head and looking down at her feet.

 _But, what?_ Aeduan thought frantically. He’d never felt more desperate for someone to finish a sentence. 

Instead, she abruptly announced: “I’ll go get it now,” then pivoted on her heel and glided away from him. He watched her go, eyes carefully trained on the manner of her gait. If she was hurting, she hid it well. Every stride of her legs was poised and measured, much like her personality. However, when she was about ten feet away from him she paused and turned around. Aeduan noticed how she hesitated when she saw him watching her, but, subtly, she squared her shoulders, and proceeded to make the short trek back to where him and Owl stood by the book cart. 

Oh. The book cart.

Aeduan made no comment when Iseult reached them nor did she. She simply rotated the cart on its wheels and ushered it away. The rickety contraception left a trail of unwelcomed noise, earning her several annoyed looks from nearby patrons. As if it was Iseult’s fault that that ancient piece of craftsmanship made such an infernal racket.

Aeduan glared at them. 

It didn’t take Iseult long to return. When she appeared, she was buttoned up in a coat and wore an old-timey looking beret on her head. On anyone else it probably would have looked childish, but on her it was cute. Aeduan shrugged the observation off by focusing on the book in her hand. 

“I hope you don’t mind that I looked up your account to check it out,” she said as she handed _Elmer and the Dragon_ to him. A boy in a red and white striped shirt and blue cap playing a flute to a circle of yellow birds looked up at him from the cover. “We’re not supposed to do that without the patron present, but... well... I figured you’d probably want to get in and get out.”

Aeduan looked up with the faintest of frowns. “Why do you say that?” 

Iseult blinked, and though nothing else moved out of place on her face, Aeduan could tell she was surprised. “Well,” she said slowly, “whenever you come in you always seem like… like you don’t want to be here.”

Aeduan tensed. That wasn’t true. Maybe it had been before, but now… now he wasn’t so sure.

He assessed the facts. Today was Friday. He’d defied all logic and come in on a day he wasn’t obligated to. He’d triggered the second coming of Judas just to be here by facing off with an irritable 4-year-old and a demonic cat. He’d even risked Evrane’s unsolicited judgement. All that he had done to pick up Owl’s book. To make _Owl_ happy. The wet jeans frozen to his ass were proof of that. 

“I wanted to be here today,” he said, tucking the book under his arm. The truth of that statement almost distracted him from the pink blush that rose on the apples of Iseult’s cheeks. Almost. 

She cast her gaze down to her hands and busied herself with pulling on her gloves. “I have to go to my next job.” Her voice was muffled somewhat by the thick scarf wrapped so high around her neck it obscured some of her chin. 

“The coffee shop?”

“The coffee shop.” She let her hand fall to her sides - gloves secured - and with nothing left to keep her occupied, she looked at him. 

“Well...” she began. The suggestion of her departure was obvious in her tone, but Aeduan interrupted her. 

“We were planning on heading there after. After coming here.”

“You were going to go to Jitters?” Iseult’s eyebrow actually bounced and Aeduan relished the satisfaction of getting a reaction out of her. It was becoming something of a game between them - though, he wasn’t sure she was aware she was a player.

“Yeah. It’s what we do on Fridays.” 

Iseult peered from Aeduan to Owl. Unconvinced maybe. “You go to Jitters every Friday?” 

“Well,” Aeduan backtracked, feeling his insides freeze up a bit, “we have been for the last month. It’s… a new tradition.”

He hoped that didn’t sound weird. Iseult was still staring at him with that blank stare of hers, her eyebrows having recovered from their brief surprise. It was all so maddening. He never knew what she was going to say. It made everything he said all the more nerve wracking… and exciting. 

He realized something then, something that made the corner of his mouth curl up. Just like that, he wasn’t afraid of what to say next.

“Shall we?”

  
  


* * *

Iseult was getting coffee with Aeduan. 

Scratch that. Iseult was getting coffee _for_ Aeduan. Or at least, she would be once they got to Jitters. 

They were walking. Outside, Aeduan had apologized and muttered something about not being able to use the car in the morning. He did that a lot. Mutter. But Iseult didn’t mind. Especially when there was an apology buried in there - which, there had been that day. Twice. That wasn’t so bad either. (Not that she was keeping track, of course.)

The sidewalks were icy, and several times, Iseult nearly slipped. Each time she noticed the way Aeduan’s hand shot out to grab her out of the corner of her eye - but only just. He never quite made it to touching her. His hand would hover in the air - she could practically _feel_ it - waiting for her to recover, and after, it would fall back to his side, wrist rolling.

The three of them walked side by side, Aeduan in between Iseult and Owl. There was no way of knowing for sure, but Iseult suspected that he had put himself in the middle to act as some sort of buffer. The contempt radiating off of Owl back at the library hadn’t gone unnoticed by Iseult. She could have imagined it, but she thought she even saw a smidgen of smugness on the child’s face after she had fallen. While Iseult admired Aeduan for fighting for custody of the child, there was no ignoring it: Owl was strange. 

Aeduan held on tight to Owl’s hand, setting the pace for the three of them. Unlike Iseult, she hadn’t slipped once. _So strange._

Nothing was said for the first ten minutes of their trek. Eventually, Iseult worked up the nerve and broke the ice in a way that didn’t involve falling on her ass.

“You said you started coming to Jitters every Friday?” she asked, giving Aeduan a side-long look. He nodded, keeping his eyes ahead of him. 

“Before we pick up my sisters from school.”

 _Sisters_. Interesting. Iseult instantly latched onto the topic. “Do they live around here?”

Aeduan shook his head. “Arithuania.” 

“That’s not too far,” Iseult commented conversationally. “How old are they?”

“Lisbet’s 12 and Cora’s 8… They're my half-sisters.” 

“Oh.” Iseult mulled over that. It was a seemingly small detail, but it invited a whole host of questions about his family. Lisbet and Cora were younger than him, so that meant he had a stepmother… which meant something had happened to his real mother. The desire to not to lose momentum of the conversation almost pushed Iseult to ask… but then she thought about Gretchya. If the roles were reversed and Aeduan had asked about her mom, she wouldn’t have wanted to answer. Her mom was about the furthest thing away from what she would want to talk about, now or ever.

So instead she said, “I don’t have any siblings. But I have Safi.”

Aeduan’s head turned to her. “Who’s Safi?”

“My best friend.” Iseult’s face broke out into a smile like it always did when she thought about Safi. “She’s the closest thing I have to a sister.”

“That… must be nice.” 

Iseult nodded in agreement. “We live together.”

A pause. “Do you get along?”

“Most of the time. But even when we disagree, we’re always in sync. We’re always on each other’s side. It’s... hard to explain.”

“Hn.” That was all Aeduan had to say to that and then silence fell between. Iseult really felt like it was his turn to pick up the conversation. She’d done a decent enough job carrying it so far; a two minute run was pretty good, she thought. A record, maybe, for Aeduan. But now it was his turn. Or so she thought. Because the silence stretched. And stretched and stretched. She even heard Owl sigh at one point. She wouldn’t be surprised if she fell asleep by the time they made it to Jitters. 

“Do you live around here?” she finally asked, then groaned inwardly. What a stupid question. Of course, he lived around here. They walked to the library all the time, dumby. 

“Yes.” 

The single word struck a match on Iseult’s nerves. She might as well have said nothing at all if that all she was going to get back in return. She wasn’t great at making conversation on a good day, but Aeduan - Aeduan was like a monolith. There was no breaking through to him. He just stood there like a constipated brick, not saying a word, with those ridiculously blue eyes and ridiculously long lashes, and just glared at her making her feel like a complete idiot for even trying to talk to him, like _she_ was the one with the problem! 

Well, she silently seethed, it was no secret to the Moon Mother that she was ripe with issues, but she was _not_ the problem here. She peeked at him out of the corner of her eye, and the white winter sunlight caught on the lobe of Aeduan’s ear. 

“Why do you wear that thing?” she blurted. 

Aeduan’s head whipped to her, his eyes slightly widened, like he’d only just realized she was there. Before, Iseult might have been scared as to how he would react to such a brazen question. But her fears had nothing on the deep satisfaction of seeing the crimson blush that fanned out high on his cheeks and crawled to the tips of his ears. She half expected him to trip over himself for how long he gaped at her. 

“Why do you care?” he snarled - he actually snarled! 

Iseult stood her ground. In that, she kept walking, head held high.

“I didn’t say I cared,” she said smoothly. “I’m just curious. You don’t see a lot of guys walking around wearing gemstones in their ears. It says alot about a person.” 

Aeduan’s jaw locked so tightly it looked like it might never unhinge ever again - which, Iseult supposed, wouldn’t make much of a difference seeing as he never said anything worthwhile anyway.

But then he did something that surprised her. He came to a full stop. He swiveled to face her directly, and when Iseult looked into his eyes, some of the fear she’d pushed aside rushed back.

“This _gemstone_ ,” Aeduan said venomously, pointing a sharp finger to his ear, “belonged to my mother.” He glared at Iseult and she swore she heard her heart stop entirely. Strangers milled about around them on the sidewalk, but in that moment nothing else existed outside of her and Aeduan. All she saw were his eyes. Cold as ice, yet burning with hatred... and grief. Even though Iseult was petrified of what he might say next, she realized that she felt like she was seeing him for the first time.

“I wear this to remember her.” Aeduan’s chest heaved. Icy air puffed from his lips with every labored breath, and Iseult suddenly noticed how close he was to her. Just another step and their noses would be touching. And their lips…

“If you’d ever lost a mother, you’d want to feel close to her too.” 

This time Iseult’s heart did stop. With a disgusted look, Aeduan swung away from her and left her standing alone on the sidewalk, staring at the empty space where he used to be.

“I don’t think I would.” 

Aeduan froze and looked over his shoulder. Iseult stood rooted to the spot. 

"I-I d-don’t know if that’s t-true.” She shook her head, not sure where the words were coming from. Not sure how her heart could be beating so fast and not feel like it was working at the same time. Like it was malfunctioning and pumping out thoughts she would otherwise never say aloud. Not to anyone. Maybe not even Safi. 

“My m-mother is sick and I d-don’t call her,” she stammered. “I never see her. I make excuses all the time about why I can’t visit her or why I don’t return her calls and even though I know I’m being a horrible daughter, I just can’t stop. I can’t bring myself to be better for her. I don’t know who your mother was or what she was like, but I do know mine. I don’t know what I’d do without her, I’ve never not had a mother, but… I don’t know if I’d want to feel close to her b-because I don’t feel c-close to her now. I… I don’t know if I’d miss her.”

The weight of everything she just admitted lifted off Iseult and she was able to breathe again, heartbeat retreating under the cool blanket of stasis she kept shrouded around her at all times. Pumping blood, not feelings, doing its job. She took a gulp of cold air. Her limbs felt foreign to her, the tension she always carried ebbing away, and a fierce exhaustion hit her with the force of a speeding train. She didn’t think she could bring herself to look at Aeduan after everything she just confessed… but she did anyway.

His expression was painstakingly emotionless. Not even a scrap of red tinged his cheeks. During her speech she hadn’t really registered him there. Even Owl at his side was looking at Iseult with something different. There was no repulsion, not judgement. Just… curiosity.

Iseult took another deep breath of air. It didn’t matter what Aeduan thought of her now. She needed to go to work. She needed to move forward. Her eyelids fluttered close briefly.

_Stasis, Iseult. Stasis. Stasis in your fingers and in your toes._

When she opened her eyes, she was moving. She was brushing past his shoulder. And then-

Something stopped her.

Iseult looked down at the hand firmly gripped on the strap of her book bag, then slowly, tipped her chin up to look at Aeduan. The white winter sun behind him was a halo around his head.

“Can I buy you a muffin?”

* * *

Somehow Iseult ended up on the green couch at Jitters. There had been scant elsewhere for the three of them to comfortably sit, so while Iseult had made a beeline for the couch before anyone else could snatch it out from under them, Aeduan headed to the counter to fetch them some coffee. Caffeine was probably the last thing Iseult needed right now - not after what had transpired on their walk - but when Aeduan had asked her how she took her coffee, she couldn’t find it in herself to refuse him.

There was an air of relaxed cheerfulness about the shop, the place bustling with people getting a jumpstart on their weekend, college students done with classes for the week. When Iseult spotted Cam alone scrambling behind the counter and Safi nowhere in sight, her first instinct was to rush over and give him a hand, but the second Aeduan stepped into her line of sight and instructed her to find a seat, she’d forgotten all about him. 

It felt strange sitting and being waited on in her own coffee shop. It was like being served in her living room. She sat spine rod straight on the edge of the couch with her hands absently twisting her gloves in her lap. She hadn’t even bothered to take off her coat or scarf. They felt like protective armor now, like needing a blanket to fall asleep regardless of whether it’s cold or not. Right now, it was admittedly too hot, what with the fireplace crackling by the couch. She could feel herself growing uncomfortably warm. She resolved to loosen her scarf, but only a little bit. 

Aeduan wasn’t alone when he reappeared carrying two mismatched mugs of coffee. Cam followed behind him, his face pinched in concentration, moving with caution as he balanced three small plates of pastries perilously along his spindly arms. Iseult tried not to make a show of watching him as he approached, but she held her breath, praying for him not to fumble. It would be exactly the kind of thing he would do, the poor kid. The second hand embarrassment alone would cause Iseult to combust. 

The second the plates made contact with the low coffee table, she was able to breathe freely.

“Cam,” Iseult said, peering over the back of the couch and looking around the shop, “where’s Safi?”

Cam put down the last of the plates and wiped off his brow, relief evident on his face. “She ran out to the corner store. The delivery guys must be running late and we ran out of creamer.”

“That’s the second time this month,” Iseult muttered more to herself than to Cam. She sighed. “I’ll have Safi give them an earful when they get here.” 

“Aye aye, sir.” Cam gave her a dutiful salute. He made to turn away, then stopped as if only just realizing that he had just served pastries to her. “You are working today, right? Safi seemed to think you were.”

“In another half hour,” said Iseult, checking the clock on the wall for good measure. “Don’t worry, I’ll be on by the time you need to leave. You won’t be late for your Big Brother meeting.”

Cam’s cheeks went a little pink and he rubbed the back of his neck. “Ok, thanks,” he said sheepishly. “I’m really sorry he called last week. I told him it wasn’t your fault, I swear.”

A memory of Safi hunched over the desk in their cramped office in the storeroom, red-faced, holding the phone to her ear flashed across her eyes. Safi’d endured a very heated discussion with some guy that claimed to be Cam’s Big Brother - didn’t even bother to properly introduce himself, the loser - and accused them of letting Cam off his shift late so that he was late for their meeting. Judging by the 30 minutes hate-rant that followed after she’d hung up the phone, it had not been a productive conversation. 

“I believe you, Cam. It really wasn't a big deal,” she lied. It had taken forty bucks worth of take-out and a bottle of wine to convince Safi not to fire him on the spot. 

“Ok,” Cam said again, shoulders relaxing. He surveyed the spread on their coffee table and glanced at Aeduan and Owl seated next to her. “I just wasn’t sure what this was.” 

“Oh ah…” Iseult glanced at Aeduan who was helping Owl peel the paper wrapping off her muffin, not paying the least bit of attention to their conversation. “We’re just having some lunch.” 

“Alright,” Cam said, eyeing Aeduan skeptically, if not fearfully. But he didn’t pry further. “Well, I’ll see you in a bit then. Enjoy your, uh, lunch.”

“Thanks,” Iseult said, watching him leave. Stealing herself, she shifted in her seat to face _lunch_. 

Aeduan hadn’t touched his food. He was too busy fussing over Owl. She sat between them, contentedly munching on a muffin that was almost as big as her head. Much like before when they had been walking together, she felt like Owl was acting as some sort of barrier now, like Aeduan had put her there to keep some space between them. Iseult wondered if she should read into it. Maybe he was trying to tell her that this wasn’t anything special. Just two people having coffee. Nothing put the lid on romance faster than a four-year-old who, as far as Iseult could tell, hated her. And then there was the issue of the 6 months worth of guilt she’d word vomited all over the sidewalk just 10 minutes ago. 

“Is everything alright?” Aeduan asked as he put down Owl’s juice box on the coffee table and picked at his own muffin.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Iseult said, almost breathless. “Just a problem with our delivery guys. I’ll have Safi handle it when she gets back.”

Aeduan popped a piece of muffin in his mouth and chewed methodically as he studied her. He swallowed. “No, I meant with you. Your face. It’s all red and splotchy.”

“Oh,” Iseult breathed, hands flying to her cheeks. The skin burned under her fingers. “I… I’m just a little warm, I guess. The fire…” Aeduan continued to stare and she looked down helplessly at her coat. “I suppose I can take this off,” she mumbled, reaching for the buttons and beginning to undo them. She tried to steady her fingers as she continued down the line. She shrugged the peacoat off and her entire body seemed to sigh with relief at the feeling of being able to breath again. She chanced another glance at Aeduan as she unwound her scarf, noticing that he had already taken his jacket. How she hadn’t noticed until was a mystery. The white t-shirt stretched across his chest made it devastatingly clear that he didn’t need any protective armor for their not-date. 

Iseult had always been so preoccupied with what was going on inside Aeduan’s head that she never really wondered what went on with the rest of him. His signature leather jacket masked how lean he truly was, but it also hid everything else. Everything else being, well, _everything_. And boy,there was so much to see. 

Not being much of a fashion guru, Iseult had never considered what was so special about the plain white tee. That singular item of clothing had transcended decades of trends despite being, as its title suggested, plain. Now, however, its reason for persevering was evident. Embellishment would only distract from the main attraction. The attraction being, the person who wore it. 

Aeduan was, for lack of a better word, _stacked_. 

The shirt left nothing to the imagination. Iseult could see the contours of his muscles, starting with the hard plane of his chest, traveling all the way down to map the outline of his abs. His arms were on full display in all their glory, pale and strong looking and - _oh my gosh_ \- was that a tattoo peeking out from underneath the hem of his sleeve?? There was nothing unsightly about him. He was built in a way that told her that he must be well-acquainted with the benefits of hitting the genetic lottery. This wasn't the work of protein powder. Somehow he had fallen into Moon Mother’s good graces. He looked healthy and strong and 100% out of Iseult’s league… It wasn’t until now that she’d ever even considered joining a league. 

She didn’t own a bat. 

She didn’t own a ball. 

She’d never made it to first base before, nevermind hit a homerun. 

She was so woefully unequipped in every way for the living Michaelangelo statue sitting across from her that it suddenly hit her that no wonder he didn’t talk much. Who needed words when you had a body like _that_ to do all the talking?

Except Aeduan _was_ talking for once. Now, in fact.

“Are you going to leave that on?” Iseult barely heard him ask.

“What? Oh-” She followed his line of sight to the beret on top of her head. She hastily peeled it off and awkwardly tried to smooth out her hair. She was uncomfortably aware of Aeduan’s eyes on her. She wished she hadn’t worn the silly thing. It had been a gift from Leopold a couple Christmases back. He had insisted that it was chic and retro and, no, it wouldn’t make her look like Mary from _The Secret Garden,_ but now she would have liked nothing more than to toss it into the fire and watch it shrivel up into a pile of ash. 

“Thanks,” she forced herself to say as she reached for the mug on the table. “For the coffee and- oh.” She examined the muffin beside it, then tilted her head questioningly at Aeduan. “Did you know cinnamon was my favorite?”

Aeduan, who was mid-sip, paused. Iseult caught the corner of his mouth curled up behind his mug. Then he tipped his coffee back and it was gone. “Lucky guess.”

Iseult allowed herself to smile, a little one, before ducking her down. She began to break apart her muffin… but there was only so much eating and drinking she could do before there would need to be some exchange of words. She decided to take a stab at it. 

“You said you come here every Friday?”

“Pretty much,” Aeduan said, reaching for a napkin and dabbing a smear of what looked like blueberry off Owl’s cheek. She looked like she wanted to resist but didn’t. 

“You do know there’s a Starbucks right around the corner, right?”

“So?”

“Well, why come here when you could go there?”

Aeduan thought about it, then shrugged. “I like the coffee.”

Iseult snorted into her mug, sending a couple errant droplets of coffee flying. Both Aeduan and Owl stared at her. Iseult surreptitiously wiped her mouth, but when she noticed that they were still staring, Aeduan clearly confused by her reaction, she sent the same nonplussed look right back.

“Are you serious?” Iseult asked deadpanned.

“I believe I am,” Aeduan replied, a little defensive, which made Iseult want to laugh again.

“It’s not actually real Marstoki coffee,” she said, gesturing to his mug. “You know that, right?”

Aeduan peered into the contents of his mug. “It’s not?”

“Not even a little.” Iseult gave him a bemused look, enjoying the curious way he was examining his mug, almost indignant. Eventually he accepted the truth and put it down.

“You said hazelnut makes it better. I guess you were right.” 

Iseult’s heart skipped a beat. He ordered his coffee that way she had brewed it for him the first time she saw him in the shop? She didn’t know why that made her feel all gooey inside but it did. 

A soft chime sounded and Aeduan reached into his back pocket. The movement stretched his already too tight shirt even tighter across his chest and Iseult launched into an aggressive excavation of her muffin as to avoid ogling him. When she eventually got a grip and looked back up, Aeduan was frowning at his phone. 

“Something wrong?” Iseult asked, hoping that he didn’t have to leave.

He shook his head. “It’s nothing.” He started to put it away, then stopped. “Well,” - he shifted again and slid it back out - “do you know what this means?”

He leaned across Owl and showed the screen to Iseult.

“My sister likes to send me these… things,” he explained, watching Iseult carefully as she looked at the picture on his phone. “I never know what the heck she’s talking about.”

“Oh!” Iseult exclaimed with a laugh. “It’s a meme. See, that’s Kermit the Frog. Kermit is-” 

“I know who Kermit the Frog is,” Aeduan ground out like it pained him to say the goofy green muppet’s name out loud. “But what does he have to do with her trying to decide whether or not she wants to sign up for the school’s annual spelling bee?”

“Well,” Iseult began and boldly took the phone from his hand and pointed to the Kermit hooded in a black cloak. “That’s Kermit’s evil persona. He’s like the devil on his shoulder whispering in his ear and egging him on. Your sister-”

“Lisbet,” provided Aeduan.

“-Lisbet said she doesn’t want to sign up because she has too many other extracurriculars going on right now and doesn’t want to overload herself. But she _also_ wants the satisfaction of wiping the floor with her peers’ asses because she knows she’ll win.”

Aeduan frowned at her.

“My words, not hers,” she clarified. She handed the phone back to him. “She was using that picture of Kermit talking to his sinister self to emphasize her evil instincts.” 

“I wouldn't exactly classify competing in a spelling bee as evil,” Aeduan said, studying the meme again. 

Iseult plunked a bit of muffin in her mouth and chewed. “Sounds like she's a pretty outgoing kid.” 

“She is,” Aeduan said, clicking his phone off and tucking it away. “But she’s quiet about it… Humble in a way the most overachieving 12-year-olds aren’t. To her it’s not overachieving, it’s just her being her.”

Iseult watched the faint smile that spread across his lips, warming his usually cold face. “Cora,” he continued without prompting, “is a lot like her, but sillier. She’s younger, of course, but she’s always been a little more mellow than Lisbet. More carefree. I don’t think school means the same to her as it does to Lisbet, but she’s a good girl.”

“They both sound like they’re good girls,” Iseult said. 

“They are,” Aeduan nodded. “They are.”

A comfortable silence passed between them in which they both indulged in a few bites of their muffins.

“So what are your plans for this weekend?” Iseult asked. 

Aeduan stiffened, looking slightly uncomfortable. “Uh, sorry, but I’m busy. I have the girls all weekend.” 

She blinked. “Right, I know... what are your plans with them?”

“You weren’t...?” Aeduan’s face went red and he absently tugged at his pieced lobe. “Oh. Well. Uh…” He tried to mask his embarrassment with a cough. “Nothing special. Lisbet likes to get her homework out of the way on Fridays and Cora likes to do what Lisbet does, so we usually spend the rest of the afternoon doing school work. Saturdays are a mixed bag. Lisbet’s does a lot of extracurriculars, so depending on what she has going on, Saturday is our day to just hang out and relax.”

Iseult had a hard time picturing Aeduan “hanging out” and wondered what that would entail. Before she could ask, a noise sprouted between them and they both looked down. Owl sipped on her straw like she was sucking the life out of her juice box. Aeduan gingerly pulled it out of her mouth and placed the exsanguinated carton on the coffee table. 

“What about you?” Aeduan asked, like nothing had happened. “Do you have any fun plans?” It sounded like he struggled to say the word ‘fun’. 

“Well, I wouldn’t exactly call my plans fun. Or call them plans at all,” Iseult confessed, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I mostly work. And read.”

“And hang out with Safi.”

Iseult smiled, nodding. “And hang out with Safi.”

It took her a full 5 seconds to realize that Aeduan was smiling back at her. Not just with his mouth but with the little dimple that winked out from his cheek. It was the most brilliant thing she’d ever seen. 

“Actually,” she spoke, looking down at her hands, “we’re hanging out tonight. Our friend Vaness is having a little get-together with some people.”

“Vaness?”

Iseult’s ears perked up, catching the sharp familiarity in the way he spoke her name. “Yeah. Do you know her?” 

Aeduan opened his mouth to respond, his smile and the dimple noticeably missing, but at that moment, the bells over the entrance door jingled and in walked Safi. 

“Iseult,” she breathed, nose and cheeks rosy from the cold. A paper bag was clutched to her chest with what Iseult guessed was creamer.

At the sound of her name, Aeduan’s head instinctively turned to look over the back of the couch. Safi froze as the door closed behind her. 

“S-Safi,” Iseult exclaimed, taken aback by the stutter over her best friend’s name. That was a first. But Safi didn’t seem to notice. Her feet seemed glued to the floor with her stare pinned on Aeduan. 

“This is Aeduan and - oh!” - Owl was turning in her seat and pulling herself up with the back of the couch to see what the fuss was about - “this is Owl.”

Owl gave Safi a shrewd look that lasted all of 5 seconds before sinking back down onto the cushion and returning to her muffin. Clearly, she was unimpressed by Iseult’s choice in best friend. 

“Aeduan, this is Safi,” Iseult told him, nearly choking on Safi’s name when she saw the frosty look he was giving Safi.

Neither of them said anything. 

“We were just eating lunch,” Iseult explained, grappling for words. She looked from Safi to Aeduan waiting for someone to explain why on earth she’d been transported to the arctic tundra. They seemed to be locked in some sort of Vulcan mind meld; she had a feeling her limited knowledge of Star Trek trivia wasn’t going to do much to break it. 

Thankfully, Aeduan was the one to do the deed. He sent a downward jerk of his head to Safi in acknowledgment that might as well have been a punch to the face for all the friendliness it had, then turned to Iseult.

“We need to get going,” he said, his voice carrying none of the warmth or depth it had had in their conversation moments ago. 

“S-sure,” Iseult faltered. She was unable to ignore the sinking disappointment buoying in the pit of her stomach. “I w-wouldn’t want to keep Lisbet and Cora waiting.”

Wordlessly, he pulled on his jacket and helped Owl into hers, then bundled her up in her hat, scarf, and gloves. He started to stack the mugs and plates.

“You don’t have to-” Iseult tried to stop him, but he continued anyway. 

“I got it,” was all he gruffed out. When everything was piled up, he stepped around the coffee table and transported it all to the counter by the waste bin. When he came back he held out his hand to Owl, who slid off the couch and placed her fuzzy mittened hand in his, then glanced at Iseult. She couldn’t read his expression, but she didn’t have much time because the next second he was turning his back on her and leaving. 

Safi, who hadn’t budged, didn’t say a word as he sidestepped around her and pushed through the door. The second it rattled shut, her head whipped to Iseult. She whizzed over to the couch like time had stopped and was suddenly speeding to catch up. She threw herself down where Aeduan had been sitting and carelessly let the paper bag drop to the floor, barely giving it any mind. Disbelief was written all over her face. Iseult was glad that her expression was finally readable, but was still very much bewildered as to the reason behind it. 

“What was that all about? Are you crazy?” Safi whisper-hissed. 

Iseult blinked rapidfire in response. “What are you talking about?”

“Him!” Safi exclaimed, shooting a look over her shoulder. “That guy! Why on Earth would you hang out with him?!”

Iseult was so confused. She was barely able to form words. “He’s just a patron at the library. We’re friends.”

Safi gave her a flabbergasted look. “He’s not _just_ a patron. Iseult,” - she leaned forward and brought her head close to hers - “do you seriously not recognize who he is or do you not remember anything from that night?” She pinned her with a stare, eyebrows high, as though waiting for a response, but Iseult shook her head smally, her mouth clamped shut. Nothing Safi was saying was making any sense and it was making her more and more nervous. 

Safi sucked in a breath through her nose and her hand covered Iseult’s in her lap. She squeezed it bracingly. All it did was send another shot of fear through Iseult. She stared into Safi’s blue eyes.

“Iseult,” she said in a low voice, “that’s the chief of police’s son... the cop that crashed Vaness’ end-of-the-year party.” 

* * *

The moment Aeduan stepped outside, he felt like he could breathe again. It had become too hot in there. And then when Safi walked in…

Of course _\- of course -_ Iseult’s best friend had to be the impossible barista. But she wasn’t just that. Because just before she’d interrupted them, something that had been out of place had slid home and he’d realized something: he knew Iseult.

A memory of a hot summer night that started with a noise complaint rushed back to him. Being in the Domestic Violence Unit, it wasn’t something his squad typically covered, but staff was stretched thin that night, what with the non-stop partying shaking up the college city, and Aeduan didn’t have much choice to turn his back on the call. It had been one of the last runs he’d made before turning in his badge.

Iseult probably didn’t even remember it. But he did. 

Owl tugged at Aeduan’s hand and felt her curl into his leg. He peered down at her questioningly. 

She lifted a mittened hand out in front of her. “Dog,” she said.

Aeduan looked to where she pointed and, sure enough, there was a dog leashed to a lamppost, most likely waiting for his owner to return from getting a coffee. At the sight of the two of them, he lifted his shaggy head from his front paws, attention piqued.

Annoyance tugged at Aeduan’s gut. He hated when dog owners just left their pets tied up unattended. It was just notch below leaving them in the car. 

Owl let go of his hand and clutched herself to him, hiding behind his leg. Wide brown eyes peeked out from behind him at the dog, who looked cold and miserable. 

“Tail not moving,” she said, her words muffled by the fabric of his jeans. Aeduan nodded and gave the dog a pitying look. 

“That’s right,” he told her. “He’s probably not happy being left out in the snow by his master.” 

Owl tucked herself even closer to him and a small whimper bubbled out of her. Aeduan moved to sidestep away from her to show her the dog wouldn’t hurt her, but she only whimpered again, more loudly. 

“It’s ok,” Aeduan shushed her, gently extricating her from his leg and lifting her up in the air like she weighed nothing. “I got you.” 

Her arms wrapped around his neck the moment she connected with his chest and the warmth of her enveloped him, anchoring him, pushing thoughts of his old life his mind. He held her close, humming soft comforting words to her and rocking her gently. 

From the snow-covered sidewalk, the shivering dog’s watery, mournful eyes watched him and Aeduan stared back. He thought about Iseult and her sick mother. He thought about Owl’s tear-stained face from that morning and her arms around him now. And then he thought about what it would take to lose a child and what it would feel like to not be missed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the plot thickens! I debated splitting this up into two chapters, but I liked the highs and lows between Iseult and Aeduan. These two just can't take it easy on themselves - or each other. 
> 
> How's everyone doing? My life's a mess lmao. Not in a 'you should be worried' way. Just complicated. XD
> 
> I'm not much of a TV person, but I started watching Naruto and The Good Place. Me being genuinely invested in tween ninjas is further proof that we are trapped in some messed up timeline. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! Follow me on tumblr @eilonwiiy and leave a comment/kudos if you have the hankering to do so. :)


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